24 Gurus
by M. S. Arora
Summary: They say you meet fate on the road you take to avoid it. When Elizabeth hears a story of Jack's past that she has never read before, she is curious, and despite herself, is eager to find an answer... and Jack. Post-AWE, J/E eventually.
1. The Arrow Maker

Disclaimer: All canon Pirates of the Caribbean characters belong to Disney- not me.

**A/N, updated 22/07/2013:** I first started this venture a few summers ago, an avid PotC fan with a lot of spare time. Then life kicked in, university started, things slowed down. It's unlikely that matters are going to change just yet. This summer (which isn't very long!), my intention is to edit some of the older chapters to make them more readable, then complete writing all the remaining chapters before posting them - just means there will be less waiting time between updates.

I've tweaked the plot a little in an attempt to stick to canon at least until the end of AWE. Hope you enjoy the story, and if you have a spare moment, please do leave a review.

Finally, thank you Nytd for beta-reading the first 26 chapters of this story. Your support is greatly appreciated.

**Setting: Post-AWE.**

* * *

**24 Gurus**

**Chapter 1: The Arrow Maker**

_Sometimes, a man becomes so immersed, so engrossed, so engaged in an assignment that he plunges himself into the black oblivion of his own unmindful mind. He who confuses concentration with neglect, and neglect with preoccupation, meets disappointment and sorrow; like the Arrow Maker, who lost his position because he was too captivated in his job to even see the King pass by._

Jack hoped she hadn't seen it, but her small, proud smile betrayed nothing but triumph of her cunningly said words, "It would never have worked out between us."

The contemptuous English lady was no longer speaking. The opulent dress, with its corset, frills and layers of skirts was gone, replaced now by an emerald green Chinese garb, settling finely over her shapely curves, revealing her true form: the form of a pirate. The hand that had once held an elegant folding fan, now rested lightly on the pommel of a sword, still quite elegantly. The cultured tone on the aristocratic tongue diminished to a roll of plebeian words punctuated with cocky arrogance: the confidence of a pirate; the confidence of Captain Jack Sparrow. He smiled then, smiling at their similarities even through their differences: the sky always meets the ocean at the horizon.

"Keep telling yourself that, darlin'."

But as always, the sky could never _become _the ocean. No one beats the bloody _expert_. Even she seemed to catch that, smiling sweetly, admiringly, almost innocently at him. He hoped, then, that she didn't see the flicker of emotions behind his laughing visage. She didn't. He knew, for she took a step towards him and her eyes momentarily fell down pointedly from his eyes before snapping back up. She knew not of the agitation within him as his arrogance, his impudence, and his temerity took over, the words leaving his tongue craftily, "Once was quite enough."

The smile slid off her face then, as she spoke her final words to him, solemnity hovering below the surface.

"Thank you."

Her eyes washed over his expressions one last time, as though memorising his details. Then she turned, an abrupt shift of shoulders, disappearing rapidly off the deck and down the ladder of the _Pearl_. A sense of déjà vu swept over him as his white-gold smile diffused. He turned to look over the railing, as did the other men, to see the Pirate King rowing steadily away. She'd barely reached the bank when she jumped out of the long boat, and hurtled in the direction of the lone figure on the shore. He, too, ran towards her, and locked her in an embrace, their lips colliding as she stood on her toes, the surf swishing at their ankles.

"BACK to work, you bilge-sucking seadogs!" bellowed Jack, loudly enough to shake the farthest sailor. "Weigh starboard anchor and hoist the mizzen!"

The consequent scurry and scattered yells of "aye" made him wonder if they –

"– have a heading?" Gibbs echoed his question. Annoyed, Jack frowned slightly at his first mate and pursed his lips. Gibbs took a step back, evidently nervous. His thick eyebrows knotted at his forehead before he leaned forward and asked in a lowered voice, "Everythin' good, Captain?"

"Of course, everything's bloody good. Tortuga."

He turned, promptly and ceremoniously, his head held high, and swaggered towards the helm.

As he glided up the stairs to the quarterdeck, he instinctively slipped his right hand into his coat pocket, but when his fingers touched the wooden texture of the compass, he came to a halt, smiling soberly to himself. He looked back at the stretch of land which was rapidly decreasing in size. It seemed isolated save for the two swords mired in the sand, glinting in the sunlight.

A forced cough drew his attention back to the quarterdeck where Barbossa stood at the wheel observing him with an expression of mild amusement. The man had aged over the last thirteen years, since the first time Jack had met him, becoming more knowledgeable, more cunning and more dangerous. He cast his former first mate a distrustful look and in response, he received a sardonic stretch of lips over the usual scraggly beard.

Putting on his customary airy demeanour, Jack turned on the step, descended onto the main deck, and paraded towards the prow.

* * *

A fragment of Elizabeth's soul vanished with the green flash, another with the salty breeze on her dried tear-tracks, and a third with the waves withdrawing into the sea, licking her ankles and digging her heels deeper into the sandy bed. Next to her, Will's footprints were long engulfed by the incoming tide. Now she was sinking alone. No one to stand by her, no one to protect her.

The sky was still a magnificent reddish orange, signalling the aftermath of sunset. She'd witnessed mesmeric sunsets before, accompanied many times by her father, or James, or Will; all of who were lost to a world unknown to her. She ran a tired, roughened hand over her eyes, drawing it gradually over her cheek and finally her lips. Will's final kisses were already fading. She knew not whether this was part of the curse. It was a cruel curse: one that bestowed itself on him as well as her.

She sighed heavily, hoping to undo the knot that seemed to be forming in her chest- a feeling equivalent to that which she'd experienced while wearing a corset. Actually, this was worse. This had to be the meaning of pain. Feeling progressively fatigued, she turned and walked unsteadily to the rock where the chest was perched.

Coarsened fingertips traced the patterns on the metal. It was beautiful; not sinister as she'd first judged, but majestic and soothing under her skin. This was probably the closest she would ever get to her husband for the next ten years and already, she could hear the harsh jeers of society reprehending her for associating with pirates, dismissing the child that she could be carrying, no doubt taking it to be a bastard. She wanted to cry, to scream, to spill her heart, but the tears didn't come. It seemed that she'd cried her fill tonight. Her heart was a spiritless stone in her chest, quite similar to Will's. She picked up the chest and held it in a gentle embrace. It definitely felt heavier than before.

Sliding down onto the sand, she pulled her knees together and held the chest to her breasts, listening to the steady thumping. Her own heart seemed to beat to the same rhythm.

_I should leave._ But where? Where would she go? Who to? There was no one left; every kin, every friend, every acquaintance, lost, dead or distanced. Except... _Don't think it. _Too late. His final words echoed in her mind along with the ridicule, the sneer. Something deep inside her lurched painfully and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight off the feeling. She knew she deserved his admonition and his rejection. He'd hurt her deeply. It's strange how he had access to the accurate methods of taunting, provoking and distressing her.

_Pirate_...

* * *

Elizabeth jerked awake as the cool waves nibbled her toes. The tide was coming in. How long had she been asleep? The sky was a blanket of velvety black, the stars and the crescent moon hanging serenely upon it. She thought she'd heard a faint slithering noise, but she'd related that to a snake rather than the hissing of the ocean waves, drawing off the shore. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and ran a palm over her features, feeling the marks left by the chest on her numb right cheek. Unwise for a woman to be unarmed, she thought sleepily. Somewhere in the distance, her sword glistened.

Unwise to reveal yourself as a woman at all, she contemplated. She snatched her sash and with a ferocious tug, tore it in half. She tried plaiting her hair but the salt and sweat from the war made it impossible for her to even run her fingers through it without catching a rat's nest every few inches. She gave up and tied a ponytail instead, using one piece of the sash to secure it. With the other, she wrapped the cloth around her nose and mouth, covering the majority of her face, revealing only her eyes. She'd take this mask off once she reached a nearby town; it would draw too much unwanted attention. After all, she _was _wanted for treason, pillaging, associating with pirates and all the other crimes the Company had added to the list, half of which were inaccurate.

Sighing, she caught hold of the chest with her left hand and stood up from her sandy bed, heading towards her sword.

It was then that she'd seen it: a definite movement from the corner of her eye. Maybe it was the trick of the moonlight that had caused it, but Elizabeth's instincts were indicating otherwise. Forcing her breathing to remain steady, she continued to advance towards her weapon, never coming to a halt until she felt the familiar cold hilt in her hand. Elizabeth listened hard. But over the hammering of her own heart, it was difficult to distinguish anything except the waves meeting the shore.

Then there was a different sound: a tinkling sound, like coins clinking against one another, or trinkets...

But Elizabeth's trail of thoughts was interrupted by the sensation of cold metal being placed on her right shoulder, next to her neck.

"Show yourself." A deep, gruff voice issued from alarmingly close vicinity. She didn't know if she recognised it, and though it seemed to hold a foreign accent, it sounded somewhat familiar. _Maybe it's feigned_. Oddly, she felt herself relax.

She took a bold step forward, grasped her sword and turned around to face her potential adversary.

It was a male figure. Elizabeth had deduced that from the pitch of his voice before and now, her judgement was confirmed by his deep breathing and the preciseness and surety with which he placed his weapon upon her jugular. It wasn't easy to make out his features since the moonlight fell on _her _partially masked face, not his.

She narrowed her eyes, and spoke in a feigned deeper voice resembling, she hoped, one that of a young boy. "I may command you to do the same."

Yellow and white teeth glimmered in the dark. Then without warning, she leapt backwards, away from the tip of the gleaming blade, moving her own sword in front of her. The swords met with a reverberating metallic clank and immediately, her blood started rushing as it had done during the battle.

He blocked her attacks with much ease, passing a few sardonic comments and laughs which were quite incoherent to Elizabeth as she concentrated on disarming the figure, waiting for the opportune moment. Her opponent was evidently skilled. He moved backwards and forwards, never side to side, so as to avoid the moonlight reaching his face. Somehow, staying in the shadows and hiding his identity made him seem more victorious, more dangerous. His every move was calculated. In a moment, he had given her a sharp, unexpected jab in the ribs with his sword's pommel. Elizabeth stumbled more due to surprise than pain, and he took her moment of distraction to snatch her weapon from her grip. He didn't attack.

"Show yourself," he repeated in a calm voice, stepping closer.

She stared at him. He lowered the swords. She suspected he already knew the answer. She knew she was at a disadvantage. _No longer_. She hurled the metal chest at his feet and he yelled, staggering backwards, losing his balance and collapsing onto the sand.

Moonlight bathed his features.

He wasn't hurt. Leaning with his elbows in the sand, he met her gaze, and with ease and adopting a slightly sneering tone, he said her name, "Captain Elizabeth Swann."

Elizabeth removed the cloth masking her face. The man continued to peer up at her, still smiling boldly. For a fleeting moment, she hoped it was Jack, even _thought_ it was Jack, but it wasn't. She'd met him before but her mind couldn't locate where...

He stood up and returned her sword, hilt first.

"I was unaware as to the apparent level of my fame."

He chuckled.

"I'm known as Jin Hai. I sail aboard the _Empress,_ but of course, it cannot be helped that the captain is unaware of her own apparent crew members." Then before she could retort, he added, "Tai Huang sends for you. The ship is afloat off the far harbour. It will take us about an hour to walk there."

Of course, that's where she'd seen him– the _Empress_! She'd forgotten about her ship; she had totally forgotten to consider her when she'd thought all hope was lost. She felt a pang of guilt; her attitude as a captain was yet to thrive. Jin Hai must have read her expressions, for he cleared his throat and held an outstretched hand to her. She accepted it, rising to her feet and sheathing her sword.

"Which way?" she asked, walking past the man, away from the water and towards the shadows of the trees in the distance.

"Won't you be taking that with you, Captain?"

It was a few long moments before Elizabeth registered Jin Hai indicating the chest. Pivoting on the spot, she walked back wordlessly, hefted the object, and turned back to her crewmate.

"This way."

She began walking in pace to the man. She couldn't believe her negligence. She'd barely been bestowed the responsibility of the chest for a few hours and already, she'd disregarded it. Her _husband_ was in that chest, the same person with whom she'd sworn wedding vows, the same person who she loved. Could she really have been that careless, that capricious, _just_ because she'd seen a gleam of hope for _her _future? She swallowed, disgusted. How could she be so _selfish_?

The answer sprang to her mind sooner than she'd have appreciated.

_Pirate_.

"Damn you, Jack Sparrow," she mumbled, barely audible.

"Yes, 'damn you Jack Sparrow', indeed," came the amused reply.

She glanced sideways at Jin Hai. Even in the dark, she could see a small smile playing at his lips.

"You know him?" she asked, diverting her eyes back.

"Everyone in Singapore who knows of the Old Temple, knows Jack Sparrow. The stories are usually intoxicated whispers in opium houses, though they've died down now. It has been over a decade since I last repeated the version that fell upon my ears. Sao Feng had forbidden us to speak of it, you see."

He came to a halt as they reached a path leading through a patch of trees. Then ducking under a low-hanging branch of a tree, he continued to lead the way. Elizabeth hurried on next to him. She knew it was foolish to provoke the man to discuss that which was outlawed by their former leader, but as always, the damned serpentine curiosity writhed deep inside tauntingly. Silence rang between the two pirates. Somewhere far behind them, the waves continued to conquer the sandy beach, their music still perceptible.

"Would you care to elaborate?"

He turned his head to look at Elizabeth. Though the trees blocked out majority of the moonlight, she could see him squinting his eyes slightly, surveying her wordlessly. He seemed to be debating.

"I am unsure of the details. I have heard several versions of the story."

"And what is your version?"


	2. The Deer: The Patterened House

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack and Sao Feng.  
**A/N: **The name Shui is pronounced as sh-wey. Thank you, Nytd, for beta-ing!  
Rating: T

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**The Deer (1): The Patterned House**

_From my travels, oh King, I have also learnt the importance of self-control. A wise man should treat his self-control like his true best friend, knowing it will never betray him even during the most tempting moments. He who is attracted too easily by passion and sensual desires more than usually summons betrayal and loses all that he has gained in life; like the deer who was allured by the sweet music of a hunter's horn, leading to his capture and death._

The Old Temple was forbidden to those who knew its location. Most didn't know. Some say the holy spirits of our great ancestors lived on in the temple, looking over their descendents, at peace. They say because of the magical powers bestowed by the heavens, the doors remained locked and secured, no matter what key, weapon or magic was used. I say otherwise.

An innocent boy of ten, I was compelled to work as a sweeper in Mistress Shui's brothel in order to gain myself a roof over my head and food to perish my hunger. I have no complaint. Life in Singapore is harsh. Mistress Shui had done me a great favour, keeping me off the streets where people were dying of disease or being murdered. She was a mysterious lady; her moods were ever-changing; sometimes she would nourish me like a mother, and other times, she would threaten to throw me out if I failed to complete all the set tasks. I grew up surrounded by whores, pirates and members of the lowest cast. I learnt the bitter realities of life sooner than many of the richer children in Singapore.

I was a quiet child. I took life as it came, worrying only about the present, leaving tomorrow for the Gods to decide. I think that's why Mistress Shui chose me for the job. When she was in a sympathetic mood, she would assign a job to me for which I would receive a bonus reward, such as a day working in the opium den. Working in the opium house was a treat. It meant you could loiter without much worry; all the customers were hazy and lost in their intoxication, and if you were really lucky, you could steal a puff or two from a disorientated customer when Ming Tao, Mistress Shui's burly employee, walked into the backroom.

But such treats arrived only once a fortnight. Once every fortnight, I was sent to keep the garden of an old house in the woods near the Johor Straits. It wasn't large but it was very beautiful, especially when it rained because then, the trees emanated striking shades of green and brown, and the smell of the wet soil was like the sensation of fresh air rushing into breathless lungs.

No one seemed to live in the house- I shaped the trees and bushes, watered the plants during an unusual stretch of rainless days, swept away the dry leaves and flowers for almost a whole year, but never once did I see anyone entering, leaving or even lingering around the house. I enjoyed the peace and stillness in the area and developed a strange affinity to the place. The silence struck me as a friend with whom I could ponder over matters in my ten-year-old mind that a normal ten-year-old would render uninteresting. I would question the reasons for the changing wind, the reasons for the changing tide, the reasons for changing moon. The silence taught me to listen rather than hear. Initially, I could hear the birds chirping in their high-up nests, but as time passed, I could hear the beating of their wings as they landed apparently noiselessly on the roof of the house, and listen to them replying to the calls of other birds in the woodlands.

Often while managing the low-lying shrubs surrounding the house, I would briefly run my fingers over the engraved patterns and sculptured statues outside the house. I would trace the strange characters on the walls and pillars, subconsciously memorising them. Sometimes, if I finished the tasks early, I sat on the rock in the corner and tried to create stories of my own using the pictures on the bricks. And with these thoughts, I would go back home, to Mistress Shui's brothel, never to speak of any of the pictures or statues to anyone in the house.

Then one evening, while I was helping at the opium den, Mistress Shui had a very strange customer. I was lazing on one of the large comfortable cushions, when the Mistress walked in through the beaded curtains escorting a very strange-looking man. He was young. His skin was brown, more sun-kissed than the usual Malayan sailors. But it wasn't the brown skin or the handsome kohl-lined eyes that struck me; it was the drunken swagger and the dreadlocks falling to his shoulders. Mistress Shui was very particular about banning drunken fools entering the den. She said she couldn't risk the Emperor's men decreasing or ceasing trade due to the increasing number of deaths of idiots imprudent enough to mix two intoxicating substances. Together, opium and alcohol were vicious enough to kill instantly. It's easier if they died _outside_ her establishment, she would say.

The man, as you will know, was Captain Jack Sparrow.

Mistress Shui was speaking in a different language. Now I know it was English. The only words Jack knew in our language were opium, women and sex. He pronounced them with surprising accuracy. All this while, he was engrossed in what sounded like a longwinded conversation with the Mistress. The Mistress nodded serenely then walked towards me.

"Where is Ming Tao?" she asked in Mandarin.

Sluggishly, I pointed behind me at the backroom just as Ming walked out. He gave Mistress a small bow and exchanged words of respect. She shot me a knowing, reprimanding look: she knew I had smoked. I smiled lazily back at her, then closed my eyes.

She probably thought I'd fallen asleep because she decided to carry out her discussion with Ming where they stood, rather than in the backroom.

"Mistress, it is unwise to allow anyone who has consumed _that_ much alcohol to smoke."

"Yes, but you see, there is a slight complication." There was a pause and shuffling of feet. "_He_ is here to discuss 'issues', as he calls them, with Lord Jiao, and I've been told to pay him special attention. They don't trust him. The Lord is sending Sao Feng here shortly."

"But still, Mistress, he looks like he's under enough intoxication."

"Yes, I thought so too, but I cannot let him leave my sight, or at least my establishments. The problem is, he's on the verge of doing just that. He walked into the brothel half an hour ago led by one of the Lord's men. Asked for the best available woman; paid for her, too, then came back grumbling quarter of an hour later saying something about the girl's attire."

"He argued about Ky Ling's _clothes_?" laughed Ming, silently.

"He was asking for another woman, but I told him every whore in Singapore will wear similar garments. Wasn't very happy so I told him he could have a night in the opium den instead, and that I would inform Sao Feng to meet him there as soon as possible. So really, we have no choice but to let him smoke."

Ming snorted in approval.

Moments later came the rustling of the beaded curtains, followed by the voice of Sao Feng shouting greetings to Ming and the Mistress in our language. After a pause, he adopted a different tongue and was engrossed in a conversation with the stranger. They were sitting at the far side of the room, but I could still distinguish their words; my hearing skills had improved significantly, and the peaceful hours spent at the old house deserved the full credit.

I heard, but I didn't understand. They didn't speak in Mandarin. I kept still throughout the conversation, feigning sleep, but my curious mind was wide awake, racing, wanting to decode their language. After an hour or so, the foreigner left. Almost immediately, Mistress Shui was next to Sao Feng, hissing almost inaudible whispers rapidly. I had to slow my breathing to hear their voices more carefully.

"... wishes us to cooperate and collaborate with him. He needs the charts – yes, he actually thinks the directions are on paper – and Lord Jiao needs a man who knows the Caribbean waters like the back of his hand. We cannot afford a run-in with the Company," Sao Feng was saying. I opened my eyes by a fraction of an inch.

"Yes, but that means we are exposing Lord Jiao's most concealed secret. We cannot tell Jack Sparrow of the Old Temple! Hardly anyone in _Singapore_ knows of its secret, or even its _presence_!"

"The Lord is intent on obtaining the treasures of the West, or Isla de Muerta as Sparrow calls it. Once he reaches the Caribbean waters, we can dispatch the man if he proves to be dishonest. It's only too easy."

"So what's been agreed?"

There was a pause. Sao Feng looked over his shoulder at the dazed customers. His eyes swept over me but considered me asleep. Then leaning forward, he carried on whispering, "We take Sparrow through the passage to the Old Temple on the upcoming full moon night –since the maps are not readable on any _other _night – translate the directions and set sail before dawn."

"The Lord will accompany?"

"Yes."

"And what of the boy?"

"What boy?" Mistress Shui nodded once, unmistakeably in my direction. Sao Feng cast me an indifferent look.

"He's the only one other than you, me, Jiao, and his two trusted men who knows of the Temple."

I tried to identify a place in Singapore which only I knew of. It didn't take long to pinpoint the exact location.

"He has been going there for a year. He's too young to understand the place as anything more than a house. Good boy, he is. Never questions or discusses anything with anyone, other than myself and some of the brothel girls. Takes life as it comes."

She beamed in my direction for a brief second and Sao Feng followed her gaze.

"You know he will have to go when he comes to the knowing age, Mistress Shui. Best not to get too attached to him. Sometimes, I really do disagree with Lord Jiao's methods. There is no reason to kill an innocent soul. One ought to practice fair-play once in a while."

"Don't talk about your uncle like that. He has led a longer life than you and so has seen the harsh realities of life. The world's a tapestry of lies and betrayal." She looked at him intently. "Life isn't fair."

"Says the woman who is the mistress of the Pirate Lord of the South China Sea," scoffed Sao Feng.

She smiled at him and turned back to face me.

"Maybe if the boy never speaks, the Lord will spare him."

"You said that about the last one too, Mistress." A sorrowful shadow passed over her face at his words, but it was gone immediately.

"So I did."

There was finality in her tone which he acknowledged. He bowed and walked out of the opium house.

I may have been ten years old, but I had heard enough.

* * *


	3. The Deer: Ky Ling

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack and Sao Feng.  
**A/N: **Jiejie = older sister. It's pronounced jyay-jyay  
Rating: T

* * *

**The Deer (2): Ky Ling**

The next morning, I searched the brothel for Ky Ling. Ky Ling was the most beautiful woman in the house. Actually, she was beautiful because she was different; she was tall and had very fair skin, quite unlike the other girls at Mistress Shui's brothel. Her chestnut-coloured curly hair levelled out her sunken cheeks, and fell snugly over her almond-shaped eyes. She wasn't born in Singapore. She was only a few months old when Mistress Shui found her soaking in the pouring rain and shrieking in a high-pitched scream near the bathhouse. Apparently, she was on a ship which was commandeered by a crew of Singaporean pirates. Luckily for Ky Ling, the Mistress was in one of her sympathetic moods. She ordered one of the locals to take care of Ky Ling. According to the whispers, Ky Ling arrived on the doorstep of the brothel sixteen years later, only this time, she wasn't just soaking in rain, she was also soaking in blood. Even eavesdropping on the gossiping prostitutes, I never learnt the full story of the incident. Perhaps, it was too common.

"Jiejie Lei! Have you seen Jiejie Ky Ling?"

"I just saw her going downstairs, Jin Hai."

She had barely finished the sentence when I turned and ran down the stairs, ignoring Lei's 'slow-down's. Ky Ling had met Jack Sparrow the previous evening. Surely, she could tell me more about him. I wanted to know more about the man, even more about the venture they were setting out on, and most about the 'secrets' of the Old Temple. The sculptures in the yard and scriptures written on walls flashed across my mind at the thought of the Temple.

Just as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw Ky Ling's light brown hair sweep out of door, out of sight. I was going to call after her, but just as I reached the door, the Mistress walked up to me.

"You did a very bad thing yesterday when you smoked from the customer's opium pipe, Jin Hai."

The fear must have shown on my face, but the Mistress mistook it for guilt. I didn't trust the woman anymore. I may have been ten years old, almost eleven, but I was mature enough to realise that this woman had used my innocence and she, and her lover, wouldn't think twice about killing me when I became 'old enough' to understand the secrets of the Temple. It was also partly the reason why I felt the frightful need to reach Jack Sparrow.

"Don't do it again," continued the Mistress. "Now go find Captain Sao Feng."

I nodded in comprehension and fled. Stopping only to ask a few hawkers if they had seen Ky Ling, I ran in the direction where she had headed. I didn't stop by the bathhouse to search for Sao Feng even though I was sure he was there. I was also sure he would still be there upon my return. House after house, through the marketplace, past the hawkers, I searched for Ky Ling, and my eyes did eventually fall upon her elegant figure, but less than a second later, I collided into a man.

The impact threw me off my feet and I landed on the ground in front of him. Rubbing my scratched elbows, I looked up at him. Immediately, I knew who he was. Without meaning to, I had found Jack Sparrow. Of course, I was more than glad to see him, but unfortunately, the reverse didn't apply. He contorted his eyebrows almost angrily, cast a few foreign words in my direction which, I was sure, were curses, and pursed his lips tightly as though waiting for me to reply. We stared at each other for a long moment. He seemed to realise that I didn't understand English.

Still, he mumbled a few extra phrases and held out a hand. I accepted it and got to my feet. It would be a while before I realised that he had, in fact, stolen my pouch containing the several dotted beads Lei and I used for playing board-games during our free time.

I continued to stare at him. He was a _very_ strange looking man. Then just as he was started to turn away, I spoke his name, "Jack Sparrow?"

His face lit up instantly. The dark kohl-lined eyes twinkled, gleaming like the white-gold smile. He said a few more words in English. When I didn't reply, he simply smiled and walked away. Ky Ling was still standing at the far corner of the street under the common roof of the row houses. I ran towards her.

"Jiejie!" I panted, finally reaching her. She looked more alarmed than glad to see me.

"Jin Hai! What are you doing here? Did the Mistress send for me? I thought she said there is not much work this morning. Why are you here?" She looked at me, searching for answers. Her gaze fell on to my scraped elbows which I was still nursing. At once, she took my right elbow into her hands and examined it. "Oh what have you done _now_, Jin Hai?!"

"It's nothing, jiejie," I said, wriggling my elbow out of her grip, "I ran into Jack Sparrow. Listen, jiejie, I've been loo–"

"Who?" she sounded faint.

"Jack Sparrow. But listen, jie–"

I was cut short by another voice, drawling from behind me. I recognised it and spun around. Jack seemed to acknowledge me too, but this time, he eyed me with an irritated look rather than the bright one he had thrown me just minutes ago. He spoke to Ky Ling in English. Ky Ling had been taught simple phrases in English. Since most of her customers were wealthy foreigners, Mistress Shui thought it was essential for Ky Ling to communicate with them, even if they were only to exchange a few words.

Still, Ky Ling's English wasn't brilliant. She looked confused and uttered a few words back, and as a response, Jack repeated his sentence slowly. Understanding drew over Ky Ling's visage as she turned back to me. "He asks why you're here. I would like to know the same."

"I have information. For you and him." Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard. I looked back at her defiantly. "Tell him."

She looked like she was going to argue, to tell me to return back to the brothel. But part of her was equally curious. I clasped her hand to reassure her.

She spoke in the strange tongue again. Jack looked at me suspiciously, no doubt considering the possibility that I was lying. Casting a quick glance around, he leant over and pushed open the door of the room that was directly behind us. Ky Ling lead me inside and he followed, making sure to close and bolt the door.

The place was small and cramped, enough only for two or three people at the most. A small thick blanket was sprawled on the floor under a lone window. On it laid a single cushion. Bottles of alcohol, empty and filled, littered the corners. On a small side table, Jack laid down his gun, sword and hat. His dagger was still visibly tucked in his sash.

He drew three straw mats from the corner and laid them next to the blanket, beckoning us over. The three of us sat facing each other, and I started telling Jack Sparrow my story.

* * *


	4. The Deer: Dangers and Dead Ends

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack and Sao Feng.  
Rating: M

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**The Deer (3): Dangers and Dead Ends**

On the night of the full moon, Ky Ling met me near the market place as planned. She wore black, hoping it would conceal her glowing fair skin. She didn't smile when she saw me; instead, she gave me a brisk nod, clasped my hand, and started walking swiftly towards the hawkers. No one spoke to us.

She turned sharply into a dim alley behind the main market. Two drunkards wolf-whistled, making rude comments, but Ky Ling kept her head down and hurried through until she reached the junction.

Jack was already there, a single burning lantern dangling in his right hand, and a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. I could tell he was generating a back-up plan, in case things didn't go according to plan.

For someone who had spent only ten days in Sparrow's presence, I knew an awful lot about the man: his cunningness, his shrewdness and the basis on which Sao Feng was so reluctant to trust him. Personally, I didn't trust the man either. The only reason I was helping Jack Sparrow was because I was determined to get Ky Ling and myself out of Singapore and into a less harsh environment. We made a deal.

Over the last ten days, I had told Jack everything I knew of the Temple: the location, the statues, and, the scriptures and patterns on the walls. I recalled every word exchanged between Sao Feng and the Mistress during that night at the opium den. I told him the directions weren't on a chart, but were definitely inside the Temple, and they definitely needed translating. I also told him the directions were only 'readable' on a full moon night. I also mentioned that Sao Feng was plotting a mutiny, though. Being surrounded by pirates, I had turned into quite a pirate myself. I _needed_ Jack to obtain the directions to the Isla de Muerta. It was the only way left to save my own neck.

I was an eleven year old boy now, and I knew that if I wanted to survive in this world, I'd have to fight for it.

I knew Jack visited the Temple many times without us to endeavour prising open the locks, but his efforts were in vain. Together, we had only visited the exterior of the Temple twice and both times, Jack's attempts were unfruitful.

Meanwhile, Ky Ling and I would sit on the rock in the bright moonlight, and she would read the characters engraved into the walls to me. They didn't form any sentences; they were just disorientated and disjointed words like 'water' or 'tree'.

For hours we would see Jack surveying the Temple, looking for hidden doors and windows, but there were none. He ran his fingers over the walls like I did, feeling the swirling patterns underneath. There was a particular pattern which occurred _too_ commonly. It reminded me of water ripples and I did point it out to Ky Ling and Jack. Perhaps it was a symbol. There were five circles of different sizes, getting increasingly smaller as they got to the centre so that it gave the picture a look similar to that of a strange eye.

It was this afternoon as I saw Ren Xian, the woodcutter, walking past the brothel, that the meaning of the symbol struck me. When I rushed in to find Ky Ling, I was told she was busy upstairs. Usually, she was 'busy' with Jack. Jack had been paying for her almost every day now, but instead of using the time to recuperate his money, he would spend it discussing the plan, adding details here and there.

Sometimes, however, they were genuinely busy. After listening briefly to Ky Ling's pleas and the responding clearly audible groans, I would return to my chores, seemingly uninterested. That morning was a similar situation, but in my excitement, I flung into the room without a second's hesitation only to confront Ky Ling's ivory-white body moving rhythmically over Jack's golden-brown skin. Her face and fingers were buried in his dreadlocks where she muffled her screams as his hands caressed her, not too gently. Both sets of eyes were closed. They hadn't realised I was in the room. I figured they didn't have to, either. Turning around, trembling slightly, I left the room.

An hour later, Mistress Shui told me Ky Ling and her customer required tea. In other words, they were ready to talk. I took the tea set in my hands, swallowed my guilt, and entered the room with decidedly less excitement than before. But as I started telling them the meaning of the symbol, my enthusiasm mounted again. Wonder drew on Jack's face and his eyebrows began disappearing into his green bandana.

Within seconds, he had snatched up his weapons and left the room. Ky Ling and I finished the tea in silence.

Now as Jack stood in front of us on the lonely street, I knew he was making a back-up plan. I wondered if he would abandon us, or barter us for his freedom if we were caught. When he saw us, he began walking in the direction of the woods. We followed. Three hours to midnight. It would take us an hour to get to the Temple. That left us an hour to get _into _the Temple and another hour to decode the directions. We were to set sail an hour after midnight on Jack's ship which was floating off the Johor strait, just under an hour's walk from the Temple.

It was another half an hour before we were safely between the trees. We caught up with Jack.

"Did you succeed?" he asked Ky Ling in a low voice. I had picked up enough English to comprehend the rough meaning of Jack's words.

She seemed to reply along the lines of: "Yes. Sao Feng will be in deep sleep."

At that, he glanced at her, a look crossing his features. She returned it.

"Did you succeed?" I attempted copying his words in English. The language was still unfamiliar on my tongue, but I was eager to try out the new phrases I had picked up. Jack cast me an amused look, approving the sudden improvement.

"Yes, I found it," he replied, nodding his head and making an exaggerated hand gesture to clarify his answer.

Ky Ling was about to translate when I shook my head indignantly and said, "I understand!" in English.

No one spoke. I could hear my heart beating, but it felt like it was thumping in my throat rather than my chest. Ky Ling too, seemed paler than usual. Her palm was warm, almost sweaty, under mine. Jack continued striding confidently through the forest, stopping only to run his fingers gently over a few tree trunks.

The temple was visible now, magnificent and gleaming in the moonlight, even though the moon hadn't reached its highest position. Jack had extinguished the lantern; the moonlight was bright enough to light our way. I thanked the heavens for keeping rain at bay. Walking through the forest was awfully dreadful in the rain; the mushy soil and the bog-like puddles were hurdles we really did not desire.

No rain, but there was certainly wind. It wasn't strong, but nevertheless, it created strange noises, howling between the trees and creaking their branches. I clung on closer to Ky Ling.

Then suddenly, Jack came to a halt.

Ky Ling gasped but I didn't. I knew there would be a tree somewhere in the forest that would bear the same circular sign that repeatedly occurred in the Temple's yard. And here it was. I had walked past this particular tree many a time, and I had noticed the owl hole before, even _admired_ the beautiful roughly circular traces of wood around it; but never once had it struck me that this could, in fact, be the entrance to the Old Temple.

I knew that whatever the Old Temple guarded was valuable, and for protecting something _as _valuable, it was more than likely that the entrance of the sanctuary was somewhere other than where it seemed. Jack smiled.

Then swiftly kicking a mound of soil resembling an ant hole at the base of the ancient tree, he started shoving aside the earth. Ky Ling promptly crouched and started digging the soil aside, but Jack grasped her hand. Pulling her closer, he murmured a string of words, most of which I didn't understand. I managed to pick up 'no', 'don't' and 'pain'. Moments later, I knew why he'd stopped Ky Ling. Two red angry marks were already appearing on her pale hand. _Ant bites_.

But there wasn't much time to fuss over them, because almost instantly, Jack hissed in pain; his boot had collided into solid metal. A trapdoor? The lock was already picked, providing evidence of Jack's earlier presence. Jack made to open the metallic door, but this time, Ky Ling stopped him. She shook her head and bent down to open the door. It was dark inside. Jack relit the lantern and handed it to Ky Ling, whose hand now sported a few more reddening bites. Then without a word, he jumped inside. I jumped in next, underestimating the depth of the tunnel, and landing painfully on my back end. Ky Ling was the last to jump in, and when she did, the lantern was extinguished. It was dark now. There was no way any lantern would remain lit with the wind channelling through the tunnel, bringing about an odd chill, as though foreboding evil.

The passage definitely headed towards the temple, for as we walked through it, my fingers traced the familiar patterns on its walls. I could smell damp wood. I was about to tell Jack when he spoke instead.

"There's a dead end."

I figured that meant there was no way forward. I pushed past Jack and ran my fingertips along the wood.

"It is Temple," I said. Then turning to him, I added, "Shoot then open."

"No," Jack's dazed voice came from the darkness. He was silent, listening. "Can you hear it?"

"Hear what?" Ky Ling asked.

And then I heard it. The hushed melody of the rushing wind, as though it were squeezing through a small gap. I gasped.

"Look for a gap in the wood," I told Ky Ling in Mandarin. Jack didn't need translating; he was already searching, his fingers slithering over the wood. Ky Ling joined him. The two of them searched the top of the wall while I groped around at the bottom.

At Ky Ling's triumphant whisper, my heart clenched with anticipation. In her excitement, she spoke in Mandarin.

"Jin Hai! There's engraved writing! It's not to be broken! It's to be pushed aside. Like a 'sliding' sort of door!" She didn't even bother translating it into English. I hurried next to her as she started pushing the wood to the right. It slid with surprising ease. Jack stood dumbfounded.

The smell of dampened wood hit us strongly, making my head spin nauseatingly. Upon recovering, Jack gingerly ducked through the entrance into the Temple and guided us with an outstretched hand.

There was no need to relight the lantern. It was then that I realised why the directions could only be read on a full moon night. Adorned with over a hundred mirrors that reflected and re-reflected the moonlight effusing through a slit in the roof, the Temple walls were illuminated, strikingly beautiful. All across the wall were complicated Chinese character, many of which I didn't recognise.

Jack picked up a large furled chart from the temple floor. He didn't open it. Instead, he listened carefully as Ky Ling attempted to translate the words on the walls. I could tell she was facing difficulty, hesitating and stuttering several times– the characters were evidently ancient traditional Mandarin and many of them would not be used in everyday language. I could only guess what she was saying to Jack. She told him the charts didn't provide the directions to the treasure.

"Read it to me!" I whispered.

From then onwards, she read out the direction in Mandarin before giving Jack a rough translation. The Temple walls spoke of an island that could not be found except by those who already knew where it was. The approximate directions engraved on the walls were enough to take any man who read them to the dangerous Caribbean waters where the treasure lay, but it warned that if one was consumed by greed, the curse of the heavens would settle upon them, destroying them, condemning them to –

Here, I hushed Ky Ling. Jack must've heard it too, for his dark eyes widened. _Voices_. He cast a look upwards. The slit in the roof was far too high to reach without a prop, and there were no such objects in the room. There was only one way out: the direction from which the voices were issuing.

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**A/N:** Thanks Nytd! :D


	5. The Deer: Curse of the Ancestral Land

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack and Sao Feng.  
Rating: T  
**A/N**: Update 23rd August. This chapter has been edited slightly due to anachronism which was pointed out by **Nytd**. Thanks ever so much! I've done my best to fix the problem. :)

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**The Deer (4): The Curse of the Ancestral Land**

Panic rising, I clutched Ky Ling's hand sharply causing her to gasp. Jack threw her a warning look and pressed his finger to his lip. He crept towards the entrance and soundlessly slid the door shut. I could tell his mind was racing, constructing a plan even as he signalled us to come closer.

"We haven't got much time– they'll be here any moment. We have to break these mirrors. It's our only hope." Jack's whisper was clear but I could hear uncertainty lingering below the surface. He thrust a silver dagger in Ky Ling's hand. Her eyes were glassed with fear now. Then turning to me, he handed me the charts.

"I wager these are important. If we split up, hide these the first chance you get and return to the brothel. Don't tell anyone. When matters cool, collect this from its hiding place and take it to Sao Feng. I'm sure he'll barter it for something valuable."

As soon as Ky Ling finished translating, I was going to argue. Jack had promised to take me and Ky Ling out of Singapore, and I would accept nothing less. I was about to retort but Jack had already reached the centre of the temple in three long strides with a sort of feline grace. He took out his pistol, cocked it and took aim at one of the top-most mirror.

"No!" whispered Ky Ling, "Jack, they'll come barging through if they hear us!"

"And isn't that exactly what we need, love?" And without waiting for an answer, he fired, shattering the mirror. Sharp shards of glass rained a few feet away. Moonlight still reflected off the remaining mirrors but the room was significantly darker. There were angry shouts emerging from the tunnel now, louder and clearer. I wondered whether he'd be able to reload the pistol in time but he was already taking aim again, obviously with another pistol that was previously hidden away in his layers of clothing. Another mirror down, followed by a louder shout from outside. Jack cast a quick look over his shoulders. Then grasping the same weapon, he hurled it at a third mirror which shattered piercingly, causing darkness to drape around us, save the thin beam of light that invaded through the slit in the roof. Jack had targeted the exacted mirrors which reflected majority of the light. I had to appreciate his aim and wit. Jack's form was engulfed by the darkness. Even over the thundering of my own heart, I could hear the attackers approaching and coming to halt behind the wooden door, behind us. I realised why Jack had made us stand by the door.

"Jack?" I whispered into the shadows. He didn't reply. Nor did I press for an answer- the voices were clear and comprehendible now.

"... NO! Do not break down the door. Move aside!" a growling voice.

"But, my Lord, the intruders! They're already inside! We should bar the door and secure it- they'll die of hunger sooner or later!" said another voice.

I held my breath. I hadn't given any consideration to the arousal of such a scenario.

"No we must recover the charts. They're part of the family legacy. And I cannot trust Jack Sparrow. He's escaped the clutches of death before. I want to see him dead for betraying my hospitality," the first voice responded, "Move!"

Ky Ling was leaning against the door, holding my hand in a painfully tight grip.

"Lord Jiao, it's jammed! The door isn't sliding."

"Nonsense!"

I realised Jack's deed had bought us a few extra minutes during which Jiao's men would break down the door. _Break down the door._ In an instant, I dragged Ky Ling to the floor. She released a small shriek but it was muffled by the rough hand that clamped over her mouth.

"Lord Jiao, there's more than one of them. I heard a woman's voice," a third voice said from outside.

"We'll see to that. Break open the door."

The whites of Jack's eyes sparkled in the darkness and I could see the corners of them lifting.

"Why laugh?!" I whispered incredulously.

"Who am I?" he asked. He dragged a single match across the rough patterned walls and held the ignited stick in the space between the three of us. Then slowly, he brought a closed left fist into the light and gradually opened it to reveal five dotted beads which resembled the ones that Lei and I played board-games with. I understood.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," I smiled.

"Precisely." He extinguished the match.

In the next split second, several things happened. Three men ran at the door, which gave away more easily than they had expected, crashing them onto the floor with several sickening crunches. _Broken bones_. Their incoherent screams prevented the remaining three men, including Lord Jiao, from hurling themselves into the black hole. The darkness, however, caught them by surprise.

"They broke the mirrors." Jiao's growling voice sent a cold chill down my back, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand. "MOVE!" He jumped in, followed by two further figures. We couldn't see them but we knew from the footsteps and heavy breathing, that they were only a few feet away. They, on the other hand, believed we were cowering on the opposite side of the temple and without a second thought started creeping away from us.

Then in one swift motion, Jack picked me up and deposited me in the tunnel. _Too late._ The men had detected movement. I turned and began running. The swishing of skirts informed me that Ky Ling was safely in the tunnel. Then her subsequent screams and the fierce yell of the men made it quite clear that though she was in the tunnel, she was anything but safe.

"RUN!" roared Jack. Whether it was directed towards Ky Ling or me, I did not know, but the panic rising in my chest readily accepted it as an order and I started sprinting along the length of the endless wooden walls, sweat breaking on my forehead, pearl-like. Ky Ling caught up with me, still shrieking.

"Jin Hai! Get out of here. Get back to the brothel! Jack... he's... he's set the temple alight. Alcohol. The fire's roaring; if you don't get away, it will perish all of us. You... you have to get away."

"I'm not going anywhere without you!" I screamed back, tears springing to my eyes as we continued rushing down the tunnel. It seemed to stretch on forever. "Come with me!" I came to a halt under the open trapdoor.

"I will follow but promise me you will return to the brothel immediately after hiding the charts. Promise me!" she shrieked, picking me up in a poor attempt to raise me high enough to climb out of the trap door.

I could barely distinguish my own thoughts. The fire was closing in. I could feel the heat rising.

"And you will follow, promise me, jiejie!"

"Yes, yes!" she screamed, looking over her shoulder. I knew her eyes sought Jack. And he came. There were several large gashes on his golden skin, blood flowing from them.

"They're coming," he said gruffly. He seemed to spot me then, and with one rapid movement, without asking for my consent, he heaved me out of the trapdoor. "Run. I will not have the blood of a child on my hands." The cylindrical charts followed.

I was going to back talk but Ky Ling's next scream was so acute and so terrible, that it could easily wake the dead, let alone cause an eleven year old to pelt in the direction of the town. I ran and didn't stop until I reached the brothel. Barging into Ky Ling's room, I stowed the charts behind her bed, and then curled up on the dirty bed sheet, letting the tears of pain, sorrow and fear spill until my chest was deprived of all air and my eyes throbbed viciously, finally forcing themselves shut and casting me into deep sleep.

* * *

Sao Feng summoned me to the bathhouse the following morning. I had foreseen it and prepared for the encounter. When I walked into the bathhouse, he cast me a suspicious look then without a word, steered me out of the door.

"Take me to the Old Temple," he said plainly. I put on a confused look. "The place where you are sent twice a month."

"Ah! You mean the house with the patterns, Captain? It's this way."

I tried to keep my steps even and my mood cheerful but the events if the previous night constantly swam into my mind. Several hawkers bowed respectfully to Sao Feng.

"You are aware of a girl called Ky Ling?" he asked, ignoring them. My stomach lurched at her name.

"Everyone in the Mistress Shui's brothel knows Jiejie Ky Ling, Captain."

"I hear you were close to her."

I swallowed before answering in a dry voice, "Yes, she was like a sister to me." I could no longer hold my anticipation for news. "Is she well, sir?" _Too forward._ I bit my tongue and struggled to keep the innocence on my face.

"One can only hope," he said, "She is wanted for treason and arson."

"Are you sure this is Ky Ling from Mistress Shui's brothel, sir?"

"Quite sure, yes." He was silent as we trudged towards the woods. The rainclouds gathering in the distance brought with them a sort of disillusioning aura. It had rained overnight and puddles of mud and water sloshed beneath our feet. I wished more than anything for Sao Feng to speak further on the matter but I knew it wasn't my place to instigate a conversation.

"You have not asked me why I'm taking you to the Old Temple, boy," he stated flatly, without making eye contact.

"I have been taught not to question my elders." He seemed to acknowledge my answer. There was a pause.

"Your jiejie," he started, "has been sighted leaving the harbour on an enemy ship captained by one, Jack Sparrow." He spoke slowly, as though making sure all his words were heard. My clenched heart seemed to relax a little: _so she's safe_, I thought but didn't let the relief creep upon my face.

"She... she has left Singapore?" I stuttered.

"She would not have been forgiven if she had decided to stay. The former Pirate Lord of the South China Sea, Captain Jiao, has deceased in the fire." I snapped by head up hoping my eyes held shock and sympathy. It wouldn't really have mattered because Sao Feng didn't make eye contact as he continued speaking, "They stole the navigational charts belonging to Captain Jiao and destroyed the Old Temple."

Even as he said it, the smell of burnt wood became more prominent.

"They destroyed a _Temple_, Captain? Surely, they didn't know it was a shrine, sir, for Ky Ling would never dream of angering the Gods!"

"The Temple is not a shrine, Jin Hai." I was surprised he knew my name. "It was a secret structure that was built long ago by our ancestors to protect the treasure in the Far West of the world. The waters are dangerous there and the Temple warned of a terrible curse that has been set upon the gold. The navigational charts were also hidden in the temple as we, meaning me and my uncle, felt that they would be safe there. We had not imagined any of our citizens breaking into a shrine, especially if it was forbidden."

"It is forbidden?"

"To anyone who knows of its location. Or knew."

"So why was I sent there, sir?"

"It is ritual. Since the building of the Old Temple, a young child was stationed there. By his master, he was told to look after the garden, but in reality, there was another motive. Our ancestors have said that the child, in fact, protects the Temple with his innocence. However, when he becomes old enough to _understand_ the secrets of the Temple, he loses his innocence and can no longer protect it. In order to keep the Temple protected, they would station another child there and put the previous one to death."

My insides started writhing– did he mean...?

"Do not worry, Jin Hai, I will not harm you. I did not agree with my uncle's methods, and seeing as the Temple has already fallen, it would be unreasonable to put you to death. I have only brought you here to ask if you are able to recall any of the characters written on the exterior walls of the Temple."

"I cannot read or write, sir, but I may be able to evoke some of the pictures," I replied. Then I gasped. The temple was visible now. The formerly stunning house was in blackened and ugly. The carved walls in the yard were scorched, the pictures and characters barely legible.

Almost without thinking, I sped up and reached the entrance, running my fingers over the once-familiar structure. Disbelief enveloped my heart as my eyes fell on the leafless plants, most of them perished into a mixture of soot and splinters that coated the nearby statues. They made the Temple look bare, almost as though it were naked, unrecognisable.

I swallowed hard. There was no way anyone could have escaped from that without severe injury.

"There were no survivors, save the intruders," a voice informed somewhere behind me.

Sao Feng had answered my unasked question.

"Is it possible that even the intruders escaped this, sir? It's an absolute disaster!" I whispered, tears stinging threateningly beneath my eyelids.

"Jack Sparrow has cheated death many times," he said, "But I would think death almost caught up with him this time." He paused as though to think whether or not it was wise to stop speaking; then he deciding on the latter, he continued, "Some sailors came into the harbour late last night, before Sparrow's ship left. Ky Ling seems to have suffered significant injury because the sailors saw Sparrow boarding the ship with a girl draped in his arms, apparently unconscious. I know she deserves no sympathy, especially for having played a part in causing the deaths, but I think she has received her penalty– not many people will survive the burns from such a ravenous fire. It is almost as though the ancestral land has punished her for her betrayal."

The tears spilt.

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**A/N:** I've tried using simple language in the 'Deer' chapters, keeping the description and floweriness to the minimum because they're all written from Jin Hai's point of view. His mother tongue is not English. In the 18th century, it would be unusual for a Singaporean pirate to use a lot of poetic devices while speaking English, unlike individuals of a higher social background. Also, a random history fact: the matches they used then were obviously different to matchsticks that we use now. In those days, they used sticks covered with flammable substances which were dangerously easy to set alight. And yes, I do know Jack's bandana is red! (:


	6. The Deer: Home

Disclaimer: Disney owns Elizabeth, Jack, Sao Feng and Gibbs.

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**The Deer (5): Home**

Elizabeth had come to halt, staring at the man in the dim moonlight. The smell of the sea was more distinct now, even though they were easily an hour's walk away from the beach where Will had sailed out of her life, at least for the next ten years...

"Did Sao Feng know?"

"No. I carried out Ky Ling's final order. Sao Feng was more than pleased upon receiving the navigational charts. Jack was right: they were valuable. Turned out they were, in fact, the route to the farthest gates. Sao Feng rewarded me well. Educated me; had me read and write both Mandarin and English, and made me part of his closest circle." He turned, realising Elizabeth was rooted a few feet away. "Shall we keep walking, Captain? The harbour is not far now."

Elizabeth didn't move.

"And Ky Ling?" she whispered.

He smiled morosely and walked back towards her before speaking in a hushed tone, "Perhaps you could ask Jack Sparrow that the next time you meet him. I never found out myself."

"I doubt if Jack Sparrow is going to be the part of our lives, Jin Hai," she replied, "but I shall keep that in mind. Let us head back to the ship."

Wordlessly, they resumed their walk. She wondered why she hadn't heard the tale before. She had grown up reading about pirates, reading about the infamous Jack Sparrow; he who endlessly escaped death. _Not quite_, a nagging voice echoed in her head but Elizabeth brushed it aside. Her father had fulfilled her every wish; bought her every dress, every book, every gift she desired. Weatherby Swann had nurtured her, and brought her up making sure that the loss of her mother didn't weaken her, or make her feel any less loved. She knew he worried about her all the time, day and night, to protect her, to keep her safe; all intertwined in his duties as the Governor of Port Royal. He never made it apparent, nor complained. But she knew she was at fault for the greying of whatever hair he had left on his balding head, and yet, he covered it up with the wig, ready to give whatever was necessary for his only daughter. He had died in an attempt to protect her, given up his position as governor, his respect and his pride.

"You haven't repeated this to anyone else. Why have you trusted me with it?"

"You can fool yourself by calling it 'trust', I have no objection, but my real motive is bargain. I give you my loyalty; you give me information regarding Ky Ling's fate."

Words were not essential to seal the deal. She would have readily given Jin Hai any news of Ky Ling that fell upon her ears. The _Empress_ was visible now, floating serenely at the harbour. Lanterns hung from it, making it look magnificent and elegant, sparkling like the stars above. Tai Huang was stood at the top of the gangplank. His hand jerked to his cutlass as he saw them approach but upon recognising them, it fell to his side and he greeted them with a stiff bow.

"Where are we heading, Captain?"

"Home," then to their slightly clouded expressions, she added, "Singapore."

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**A/N:** This'll be the last of the 'Deer' chapters. Here's an idea about the next one:

Gibbs says, "See three days out on the venture the first mate comes to him and says everything's an equal share. That should mean the location of the treasure, too, so Jack gives up the bearings. That night there was a mutiny..." in, as you will all know, The Curse of the Black Pearl.

But this is the same man who believes that Jack 'waded out into the shallows and there he waited three days and three nights till all manner of sea creature came and acclimated to his presence. And on the fourth morning, he roped himself a couple of sea turtles, lashed 'em together and made a raft'.

So how much truth is _actually _present in that tale? **Next Chapter!**

Also, thank you, **tndigger**, for your review. The hit counts for the story are soaring higher than I'd expect for a 4-days-old story so please leave reviews, you little stowaways! I might be able to have a flick through some of _your _fics while I'm on here. I look forward to support and constructive criticism! I've done quite some research and have attempted to keep the story historically accurate but if there is a slip-up somewhere, let me know and I'll see what I can do to solve the problem. Thank you!


	7. The Moon: Echo of the Past

Disclaimer: Disney owns them, not me.

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**The Moon (1): The Echo of the Past**

_The moon is an ivory pearl; beautiful even though it may appears slightly tainted. The moonrise and moonset changes on a daily basis but never once, does it seize completely. Similarly, life begins with birth and ends with death. The timings may change, but the cycle is inevitable, indestructible; it's only a matter of time, only a matter of destiny._

Jack Sparrow seated himself on the jetty of Tortuga harbour, his bare feet hanging off the edge, submerging his ankles, where the waves collided gently against them. Little fish nibbled softly at the soles of his feet as Gibbs, his first mate, flicked crumbs of loaf into the water. The bejewelled fingers of one hand tapped rhythmically on the wooden floor while those on the other, wrapped themselves lightly around a half-filled bottle of rum. As the sun sunk at the horizon, it created a blazing shade of orange that dominated the sea and the sky, as though it were conquering a golden empire.

The _Pearl _had left the harbour over a fortnight ago and Jack had been certain they would return. The Fountain of Youth was impossible to find without the charts, and he was sure Barbossa would backtrack to Tortuga searching for them. He'd taken most of the crew with him, save Gibbs. It had come to Jack's mind that he could, in fact, commandeer one of the vessels floating at the harbour with Gibbs' help and chase the _Pearl_, and make another witty deal with Barbossa. He had, after all, managed such a task before. _Before he blast the ship to smithereens. _

"You could thank the whelp for that," he mumbled, his words slurring slightly. Gibbs paid him no attention, but continued sprinkling stale bread into the water, lost in his own thoughts.

It was more than absurd to attempt commandeering a ship here since the majority of them belonged to Jack's former opponents. In any case, they were probably aware of his intentions because suddenly, all the ships had doubled their security, making sure they had at least half a dozen men keeping watch at any time.

The confident Captain Jack Sparrow had earned himself several enemies during his lifetime, along with the scars and other unpleasant souvenirs.

He glanced at the faint form of the moon, barely visible in the evening sky.

It was a reflection of human nature, an imitation of human personality. The shape of the moon gradually changed every night, little by little, inch by inch; but the apparent waning and waxing of the moon did not change the moon itself; never did and never would. People never really change. Wise not to trust a pirate.

Not unless you're trusting him to betray you, Jack contemplated.

The echo of his distant past reverberated in his mind, sounding mournful like the cries of the gulls returning home.

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**A/N:** This one's rather short. The next one will be slightly longer, I promise. Hit counts have more than doubled overnight so I'm pretty chuffed. Leave reviews, people! I promise I won't bite. (:


	8. The Moon: A Good Man

Disclaimer: Disney owns them.

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**The Moon (2): A Good Man**

It had been a similar evening when the three-and-twenty year old Jack stood on the forecastle deck of the _Pearl_, looking out into the setting sun, lost in thought. The argument that occurred earlier on that day unsettled him greatly, as it would have unsettled any good captain.

Barbossa was strictly against the idea of visiting Tia Dalma, especially since it was only a day's journey to the Isla de Muerta. Jack had expected some discrepancy amongst the crew, and he was proven correct: not many of them were ready to believe the presence of a curse. Barbossa even laughed at the idea. Jack, too, had snorted in amusement when he first heard the notion. Gold blinds a man, pirate or not: the concept of a curse set by the ancestors seemed like a barrier established to prevent the superstitious people of Singapore stealing or fighting for this hidden treasure. The pirates on _this_ side of the world, however, were much less superstitious, and so their disagreement was not without good reason.

But still, Ky Ling had been insistent. She was more than certain that there was something of sinister nature waiting at the island. Often, Jack intended to question her about the remaining calligraphy on the temple walls; about the words that had been left unsaid due to the undesired interruption, but every time Jack approached her with that purpose in mind, he would falter, hesitate and then drop the idea completely, only to pick it up and relive the cycle again within an hour or two.

Ky Ling had been rather weak over the past five months since they left Singapore. During the fire at the temple, she'd suffered severe burns to her face and limbs when her dress had ignited. She'd fainted shortly after, but not before the dagger of one of the two surviving Singaporeans had pierced her lower ribs.

He'd been sure she was dead as he tore open the flaming material from her scorched skin, watching the blood spread through her half-burnt chemise at an alarming rate. He wasn't sure if he had heard her pulse or his own against his eardrums as he placed the side of his head over her chest, hoping the smoke in the tunnel would camouflage them for a few more valuable moments. It didn't.

One attacker had fallen but there was still one, alive and charging at him fiercely. Jack had wasted no time in throwing a hand full of dotted beads on the ground and used the split second surprise on the advancer's face to haul Ky Ling's irresponsive form out of the trapdoor. Then casting one last look at the approaching fire and his disarmed opponent who had slipped over the beads and fallen unceremoniously to the floor, Jack pushed himself out of the hole and slid the metal cover over the opening, knowing the man's life would be claimed by the fire's wrath in mere seconds. He didn't waver. Hoisting Ky Ling's now ant-bitten body over his left shoulder, he ran towards the harbour, her dead weight biting into his clavicle painfully.

By the time he reached the _Pearl_, he'd draped her in his arms instead, trying to ease his own stinging wounds which were screaming in protest as rain fell upon them. They set sail before dawn, only just escaping the clutches of an incoming ship full of Singaporean pirates.

The _Pearl_'s crew had declared Ky Ling's wounds to be noncritical, and though _his _injuries were much deeper, they were not directly life-threatening.

Still, Ky Ling had lain unconscious for almost two days. Jack had been patient, and more importantly, thankful that she had some hope for survival even though she barely showed signs of life. Her breathing occasionally sped up but she neither tossed nor turned, just laid unmoving in Jack's cabin. Jack had been tempted to sail to one of the Malaysian towns to pick up a maid who could attend to Ky Ling's need, should she started reviving, but later decided against the idea. It was essential to get to the Caribbean as soon as possible, especially since there were Singaporean pirates roaming these waters, not to forget the East India Trading Company ships and privateers. Instead, Jack stationed Edward, a sixteen-year-old boy, to look over her when he wasn't needed on deck. He didn't feel it was safe to allot the other men with such a task. Ky Ling may not be as beautiful as she once was, but she was still a woman; a helpless, benumbed woman.

She gained consciousness suddenly, and without any prior warning. And when she did, Jack was so startled, he only stared at her, and she stared back. When she didn't speak for over a long five minutes, Jack had feared she had locked her tongue due to shock. Even as he sat on his bed cradling her face, only quiet tears escaped her almond eyes and rolling down her cheeks like delicate pearls. _At least she remembers,_ Jack thought, and then immediately hated the notion. He hated the fact that she was bearing such a pain, physical and mental; hated the fact that she'd been banished from her own home by her own people; hated the fact that she could never go back. And for all this, he blamed himself, his greed, his selfishness. For the first time in his two-year career, he hated who he was.

For once, Jack Sparrow wanted to be good man. Not a pirate.

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**A/N:** Ekk. For some reason, this took longer to write than I'd expected. So. What do you think? Read and review, people!


	9. The Moon: Speech and Speechlessness

Disclaimer: Disney owns them.  
Rating: T for sexual implications

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**The Moon (3): Speech and Speechlessness**

She didn't speak for over two weeks. She didn't even leave the cabin. Jack hadn't urged her to do anything. The crew only discovered Ky Ling's recovery when they entered the cabin for a meeting a week later. He had ordered them not to exhort her for answers. It would be reckless to provoke her stupor; all they could do was wait for her to break through it. Edward would take her meals to the cabin, and lay the tray in front of her, but never encourage her to consume it; then when Jack had a moment free from his duties, he would feed her the hardtack wordlessly, sometimes waiting several minutes before she was ready to take another bite.

Jack was worried, too worried about her health, but he never mentioned it to anyone but Edward, who occasionally asked him when Ky Ling would start speaking again. Though the boy didn't directly express his curiosity, Jack was sure he was itching to ask about the incident that had left Ky Ling in such a shock. Jack could barely repeat the tale to himself, let alone the crew; and the crew knew their captain well enough to hold their tongues.

Then almost three weeks into her speechlessness, there was an attack.

Jack was at the helm that night, steering the ship through dense fog. Once or twice, he had wondered whether there was a sound other than the churning of water beneath the _Pearl_. He discarded the thought thinking the fog was playing tricks on his eyes. Or perhaps it was sleepiness. No good being at the wheel when feeling tipsy, he thought to himself, and so he summoned his then first mate, Tobias Carter, to take the helm.

Tobias took the wheel willingly, casting a joke about his wakefulness. Smiling at the good-natured man, Jack descended onto the main deck and turned to head towards his cabin. He pushed open the door, but instead of facing the usual silence, he was greeted by an ear-splitting shriek that not only caused him to yell in return, but also resulted in him ducking and twirling, drawing his sword in the process, ready to attack.

Ky Ling's scream worked as an alarm, shrill enough to wake the entire crew. Man after man barged through the hatch onto the deck, weapons drawn menacingly. But there was no time to acknowledge them, for there were figures appearing on the deck of the _Pearl_, swinging soundlessly from an adjacent ship that was engulfed by the darkness and fog. In the dim light, Jack could just distinguish their yellow-brown skin and their limpet-shaped hats. They started communicating in hushed whispers, and from their language, Jack knew they were sent by Sao Feng. Though many of the intruders were short, the man standing in front of him was tall and well-built.

Without looking, Jack yanked the cabin door shut, shielding the girl from his adversary, but it was too late now: the opponent was smiling a horrible leer. Jack attacked first, and his challenger replied with a skilled block and mocking laughter. All Jack's mind could think of was Ky Ling; her life, her safety. He continued to the block the door, using minimal footwork even though he knew that the easiest way to outdo his hefty opponent was to use short, calculated steps which would effortlessly topple the man over. The attacker laughed again.

"What is it you want?" Jack choked, racking his brain for techniques to overthrow his opponent.

"Everything _you _find valuable," he laughed, "Including your life." His speech was accented but clear, and his English, though simple, was understandable. "You think Lord Sao Feng will let go so easily after his uncle's death?"

Jack moved to avoid the man's blade.

"You crossed him, took the Mistress' best girl and destroyed the Old Temple," he continued, "You think he will just stand and watch?"

"How the hell did he get the message to you so quickly?" Jack asked. He found his technique: he had to buy time with conversation.

"He has his ways." the man replied.

"Look, mate. What say you we run up a flag of truce, and we discuss this issue instead? Seems rather pointless speaking on the matter when our men are cutting each other down. At this rate, we'll be the only two left alive."

Behind the man, Jack saw his men viciously attacking the enemy. The sound of the clashing cutlasses, and firing pistols rang through the night, along the roar of the cannons, tearing at his eardrums. The other ship was visible now. It was much smaller than the _Pearl_ and perhaps, that was the reason it moved silently through the water, creating unnoticeable disturbance.

"You betrayed the late Captain Jiao, you betrayed Lord Sao Feng, why should I expect any better?" he growled, "You have destroyed the girl's life. You really think she'll be able to earn anything with _that _face now?"

Subconsciously, Jack's grip loosened slightly on his weapon. He had neither expected anyone to say it so bluntly, nor prepared for such an encounter. The guilty feeling in his guts writhed uncomfortably. The man must have seen the dark look that flickered over Jack's face, for he continued in a taunting voice, "I'm surprised she's alive! What have you done to her? She was very beautiful once, you know. Maybe she would be better off dead, Captain! Not that I care for such a treacherous whore."

Jack didn't reply: he didn't know how to! The shame was biting through his flesh, more painful than any sword wound. He tried to block out the man's voice, tried to concentrate on disarming him but his opponent's incessant vile laughter was breaking through his defences.

"Should I take your lack of speech as a sign of weakness, Captain?" he asked balefully, "Perhaps you've grown more affectionate towards the girl than is prudent. You know you're putting _both _your lives in dang–" He hissed as Jack's blade slit through his right hand, leaving a deep wound. Swiftly, he shifted the weapon into his left hand, but this had evidently weakened him, making his attacks less precise and less powerful. But still the man laughed.

"Ah, so it's true!" he chuckled, "But you mustn't worry, Captain. We'll take good care of her before she receives the fate deserved by all blood-traitors. So tell me, is she skilled?"

Jack's anger was seething, threatening to explode. _No, he's only trying to provoke you. Concentrate!_ The _Pearl _jolted violently as it returned fire. It was not possible to see how much damage was actually caused to or by the other vessel.

"What's wrong, Captain? Has she stolen your tongue too?" he asked sneeringly, "Perhaps I should go evaluate her dexterity for myself."

Jack had had enough. His left hand moved on its own accord. He yanked his pistol from his sash, cocked it and pulled the trigger. The man staggered. Jack watched surprise wash over the man's features as he fell to the floor with a shot snugly situated in his heart. He watched him twitch and grope at the wound, attempting to stop the streaming blood but in vain. He watched until the man moved no more.

Then one by one the intruders dropped their weapons, removing their hats as a sign of respect towards their fallen captain.

"Wrap the captain in his colours. Put the prisoners in the brig. Tow the ship." The orders were carried out without further ado. Jack looked around on the _Pearl._ Most of his men seemed to be alive though some of them looked severely hurt. Parts of the railing had been destroyed by the cannon fire but thankfully, the sails and masts were unharmed. He took in a deep breath then called loudly and clearly, "CARTER!"

But instead of his first mate, Edward limped towards him, blood gushing from an open wound on his thigh.

"Tobias is dead." His face was expressionless. Jack stared at him. Edward continued, "They got him straightaway at the helm. They thought…" – his wounds were obviously stinging – "they… they thought he was you."

The boy stumbled slightly, and lost his balance, evidently dizzy. Jack moved forward to help but Ky Ling got there first, slipping silently out of the door, and stepping forward to catch the young boy, who fainted instantly.

Jack forced his voice to remain steady, "See to the injured. Treat the deceased with respect."

He crouched next to Ky Ling, lifted the boy into his arms, and carried him below deck. Ky Ling followed.

They had tended the wounded, both crewmembers and the enemy. He had lost two men other than Tobias, both young sailors. They had decided that it was pointless towing the junk ship: it didn't take long to work out that the damage done was enough to sink her within a few hours. Instead, they took aboard the gunpowder, edibles and arms. There wasn't much gold.

On the other hand, Ky Ling had started speaking. Jack did his best to avoid bringing up the incident that had occurred at the temple, for he knew it pained her to discuss it, and though she hid her tears in the daylight, he was sure he heard silent sobs late at night when she thought him to be asleep. Jack decided that time would heal her wounds. But how long did it take to heal such wounds? A month? A year? A few years? Jack didn't know.

It was another six weeks before Ky Ling willingly brought up the topic.

Jack was in the hold retrieving a bottle of rum. It was as though she materialised out of nothingness behind him, and had he not recognised the feel of her long fingers on his shoulder blade, he would surely have yelled in surprise.

He turned to face her. At first, he wondered if she had been seasick again, but as she began speaking in a expressionless and voice, he knew she'd obviously prepared for the confrontation. "What happened?"

He knew immediately she was referring to the night at the Temple. He hung the lantern on a nail in the wooden walls of the ship, then placed a palm on her shoulder, and eased her soothingly into a sitting position on a short barrel.

"Are you feeling well, love?"

"I'm fine."

"What do you want to know?" Before she could reply, he added, "He's safe, he has the charts, Sao Feng is the new Lord of the South China Sea. You're safe, you're with me."

She continued to stare at him. Then slowly, she stood up, and lifted a burnt hand to her partially scalded face, feeling the roughened skin beneath her fingertips. He knew what she was thinking. Slipping one hand behind her head and the other around her shoulders, he pressed her face to his shoulder. She remained motionless initially with one hand still trapped between them; then gradually, she slipped both her hands under his coat, wrapping them around his waist, and cried, quietly at first but soon she was racking with sobs, her tears and whimpers engulfed by his shirt.

Jack held her tightly, stroking her unwashed hair.

After what seemed like an eternity, she drew back, and addressed his chest as she spoke, "The treasure is cursed."

Jack snorted.

"Don't laugh! It's true, I read it. There was something about islands, and gold, and greed… I… I can't recall it all. But over the last month, I was thinking… and… and I could remember… parts."

Jack smile flickered slightly but again, he sat her down on the barrel, and cupped her cheeks with both hands, forcing her to look at him directly.

"Love, don't worry, it's going to be okay…"

"No! You don't _understand_!" She covered the back of his hands with her own. Her eyes were pleading, brimming with tears as she continued to speak. "We mustn't anger the spirits of the past. Terrible, terrible things happen to those who –"

"Ssh... we'll work something out." He bent over and planted a kiss on her salt-streaked lips. She didn't respond at first, but slowly, very slowly, Jack's touch broke the barrier, and she replied to it. She shivered slightly under his calloused fingertips, and he knew she was undergoing the same familiar sense of desire that was running through his spine, tingling in certain places. That night, she'd loved him like never before, as though trying to answer the unasked and the unanswered questions that lay between them.

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	10. The Moon: An Accord

Disclaimer: Disney owns them.  
Rating: T

* * *

**The Moon (4): An Accord**

From that day on, Ky Ling started recovering at a faster rate. She was still weak, and tired out rapidly after a few hours of work, but nevertheless, she helped the crew with the everyday tasks onboard the ship. Jack had pointed out that it wasn't necessary for her to work in the scorching heat, especially since she had a considerable amount of recovering to do, but she insisted that the only way she was going to recuperate was by doing chores and mingling with more people. Then pulling on Jack's loose shirt and breeches, she would fix her long brown hair into a bun or braid, and head off to help Edward and the other men with the cooking, cleaning and occasionally, nursing.

The crewmembers had grown to respect her over the two months: most of them treating her as a friend, daughter or sister, while the others were decent enough to make sure the 'captain's whore' whispers remained behind her back. Not that she would have cared: it wasn't a secret. The men often conversed with her, but they were careful never to let slip a question about her past because Jack had forbidden it.

Ironically, she seemed more than eager to bring it up than anyone else.

She was determined to make him forget the treasure. Jack had to acclaim her perseverance. She would snatch every opportunity to tell tales of those who 'angered the ancestors', hoping they would waver his willpower to reach the Isla de Muerta. Sometimes, she would sit in a childish strop when he laughed at her stories, and told her that he will chase the treasure even if the ancestors decided to descend from heaven and come charging at him with their harps and whatever other heavenly weapons they possess. He would then have to convince _her_ to start talking to him again which often took more than oral persuasion. At the end of their session, when he thought he had _almost _convinced her, she would ask him to abandon the thought of the treasure again, thinking that perhaps in his more satisfied form, Jack Sparrow would be a more cooperative individual. But Jack would just plant a chaste kiss in her hair, and she would lay her head on his chest, falling asleep, knowing that another day had passed without success.

Just under a month's journey from Tortuga, Ky Ling approached Jack with a new tactic. He was at the helm one morning when the girl slipped between his arms and leant back on the wheel, looking at Jack. She smiled a dazzling smile. The scars on her face were still evident but Jack had become accustomed to them, looking past them at the girl beneath the blistered skin.

"It's early." He grinned at her,sure that he'd seen a sparkle of fire in her eyes but she quickly covered it up by looking pointedly at his chin. He continued, "Are you well?"

"Quite well thank you."

"Are you happy?"

"Quite happy yes." She paused, trailing her fingers down from his sternum to middle-section, where she tucked four of them into his sash. His breath caught. She smiled knowingly, and Jack knew she could see the hunger in his eyes. He lowered his head, reaching for her lips but at the final moment, she turned her face to the right so that Jack's lips collided with the side of her lips.

For one disbelieving moment, Jack thought he'd missed but when she continued to tilt her head sideways as he tried to locate her lips, he knew she had diverted the kiss. She laughed softly, pushing him away with her hands that had travelled back to his chest. Feigning a dismayed look, he asked, "Are you _sure _you're feeling well?"

She playfully hit him with one palm.

"I want to ask you something."

"Ask away, darling." His eyebrows rose expectantly.

"Am I important to you?"

His eyebrows were at the verge of disappearing into his patterned bandanna. He exhaled heavily, smiling slightly. Then looking past her, he removed one hand from the wheel and slipped it into his coat, withdrawing the familiar wooden compass. Ky Ling frowned.

"Jack!"

"Hm?"

"I just asked you a question!"

"I'm asking my compass."

A look of incredulity washed over her face. She obviously thought he was joking because she replied in a low teasing sneer, "And what does your compass say?"

"It says you're a sneaky little wench who's trying to pull my leg." She looked amused as she raised her eyebrows and continued smiling.

"Where did you get it?" she asked, pointing to the compass.

"From an old frien–" He stopped midsentence, a large smile stretching across his lips as his eyes widened to twice their natural size. He opened his mouth slowly then bit down gently on his lower lip, revealing his front teeth. An idea had formed in his mind, taking shape incredibly fast. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. Ky Ling was obviously surprised by his sudden change in expressions. Catching her baffled visage, he narrowed his eyes and continued smiling as he spoke again, "I have a proposition to put to you."

"A proposition?" She looked even more surprised.

"Aye. We're still going to the Isla de Muerta," he said. She opened her mouth as though to object; the surprise on her features was replaced by mild exasperation. He continued hurriedly, "_but _we'll pay Tia Dalma a visit first."

"Who?" The surprise was back.

"An old friend."

"Why?"

"Let's just say she's good at removing people from quicksand," he said, "Even if she tends to beat around the bush quite a bit." He didn't think she fully comprehended the idiom but he didn't stop to elaborate. He was sure Tia Dalma would know of a way to squirm out of this dilemma.

"Where will we find her?"

"Upriver. It's best if we get to Tortuga first though. This ship needs to be resupplied and mended. Meanwhile, we'll recruit a larger crew; I have a friend there who I think will be interested in joining this venture as first mate. But as for now..." He slipped an arm around her waist and purred in her ear, "Do we have an accord?"

She smiled as their lips met.

"Agreed."

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**A/N:** Thank you **royalpinkdogs **for your review! Your support is much appreciated. The rest of you, stop being bashful and leave a review or two! The visitor and hit counts for this story are soaring so I know you're there... **and don't think I don't**! (:

A-level exam results are out on Thursday so I'm having major freak-outs every few minutes. Next chapter should be up soon hopefully, considering I don't stress out and die by Thursday morning.

Thank you for reading!


	11. The Moon: Right or Wrong

Disclaimer: Disney owns them.  
Rating: T

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**The Moon (5): Right or Wrong**

Jack smiled at the thought as the sun started merging with the ocean at the horizon, but his smile changed into a grimace as he remembered the disagreement that had occurred between the crewmembers earlier on that day. It would take ten days to reach Tia Dalma, whereas it would only take a day to reach the Isla de Muerta.

Many of the men, including Barbossa, were against Ky Ling's consistent proclamations. Jack didn't know what to do. As a captain, it was his duty to consider the opinions of the team members and also to think of the greater good. What if he _did _steer the ship towards the Isla de Muerta and then discover a curse that would doom them all? Would he be a good captain, then? Jack shook his head, confused.

They had decided during the assembly that Jack would put forth his decision at dawn. Not many were happy about the delay but there was no other option.

Jack needed the support of the crew to track down the treasure but he also needed Ky Ling in case there happened to be any more writing that needed translating. Obviously, the crew outnumbered the two of them. Perhaps it'll be wiser to do as the crew demanded; he'd have to find a way to convince Ky Ling. Yes, he'd have to persuade Ky Ling. He turned his back to the setting sun to study the pirates on deck but apart from Bootstrap at the helm and two other pirates working on the quarterdeck, the panorama was deserted. The men seemed to be working below deck that evening. He descended from the forecastle deck and headed for the hatch in search of Ky Ling but at that moment, the door of the captain's cabin creaked opened and she emerged through it.

"Impeccable timing, I tell you," he smiled at her. Her lips twitched as though in an attempt to return the smile. Again, Jack's first instincts told him she'd been seasick, but as she began lumbering towards him, he knew she was feeling even more poorly. Immediately, he strode towards her, meeting her at the mainmast where she fell against him, resting her clenched fists on his chest and her head beneath his chin. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders instinctively.

"Jack..." A whisper, a plea.

"Ky Ling?" He drew her back slightly and looked down into her pale face, a frown dominating his forehead. "Darling..." She rested her left ear on his right shoulder amongst his dreadlocks, her hot breath ragged against his neck. She had been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot, still brimming with tears and yet, she swallowed hard, keeping them at bay. Jack felt the sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and cheeks as he ran his fingers over her face, cupping her jaw and diverting her eyes to meet his.

"Jack..."

"Ky Ling. Love, what's wrong?" he whispered back, stroking her hair from her forehead to her nape and then gradually tracing the thick braid that descended to her waist.

"Go... now," she breathed in his ear, the words hitching somewhere inside her, causing her to lurch forwards, deeper into his chest.

"It's alright... everything's alright," but his voice trailed away as his roughened fingertips met not the texture of coarsened braided hair, but of smooth cold metal and a wet warm fluid. Something in his chest clenched painfully, curling into a tight ball that constricted his windpipe and widened his disbelieving eyes. He leant over her shoulder, barely gathering enough courage to focus his eyes upon the familiar silver dagger that was protruding from her waist, close to her backbone.

"Leave... the ship... now, Jack," she murmured, looking sorrowfully at him through tired, defeated eyes. Jack wanted to reply, to speak words of compassion to the girl in his arms, but his throat was too dry, too itchy, for him to breathe or even swallow. Instead, he lifted his right palm from behind her to his eye level, every nerve in his body dreading what he would see, hoping with all his heart it was a lie, a hoax; and yet, the warm red liquid glistening over his fingers was undoubtedly blood; Ky Ling's blood.

It was as though Jack's senses were failing to imbibe his surroundings effectively. His eyes remained transfixed on his bloodied hand, his skin tingling beneath the liquid as Ky Ling pressed deeper into his chest. Subconsciously, he tightened his embrace around her body because her body was all he could feel; the spray of the sea and the kiss of the wind were as obscured and as unimportant as the aridness of his throat and the paucity of air within his lungs. A strange high-pitched ringing resonated in his ears but he could distinguish the stomping of the many pairs of boots upon deck of the _Pearl_.

"Jack..." she was whispering again, "Jack... I..."

He couldn't hear her anymore. He could only see his first mate walking towards him, a leer imprinted on his dirty features which, oddly, were blurring.

"...I'm sorry..." she was saying in a hushed tone, "I'm so sorry." Her voice was rasping. His eyes averted back to meet hers. He held her tighter but her knees were collapsing, and Jack's body followed hers until they both hit the deck. He remained on his knees while she laid in front of him in a strange posture: her head was still against his chest where he cradled in the crook of his left elbow, but the rest of her body was limply positioned at an odd angle like a sleeping baby on its right hip, one knee bent slightly more than the other.

"No..." The voice that issued from his throat didn't sound like his own. She blinked once, then smiled bravely. He wished he felt as bold, as strong as her smile but the truth was that Jack Sparrow had not felt so vulnerable since the day the _Wench _had sunk, two years ago. Even then he'd seen a sign of optimism, of resurrection and he'd chased it, but now; now, as he saw the dying girl in his arms, he saw no escape, no hope and no promise. She was sinking and he was sinking with her; both of them falling into nothingness, seemingly unaware of the approaching men on the deck.

He knew the boots were moving closer, but his eyes were captured by Ky Ling's, which were beginning to appear glassy and distant, moving away to their own world, abandoning him. He cupped her left cheek, descending his mouth to hers for one last kiss. She responded slowly, parting her lips to accept his tongue. He could taste the saltiness; whether it was from the sea or her tears, he didn't know, but he took it in, savouring it, memorising it.

"Jack..." she breathed again. He opened his eyes, wanting to reply but at that moment there was a sharp rap on the back of his skull followed by a gunshot and laughter that echoed deafeningly as Ky Ling's palm fell flaccidly to her side, causing all to go black as Jack's sealing eyes caught a final glimpse of the dangerous smirk adhered on his first mate's features.

* * *


	12. The Air: Time and Tide

**A/N**: Thank you **Nytd **for all your fantastic advice and the swift beta read!

* * *

**The Air (1): Time and Tide**

_Everyone is surrounded by positive and negative elements that will readily influence them, luring them from their duty and their purpose. A wise man is like the Wind: he may carry both pleasant and unpleasant scents, but he is never truly contaminated by it. He has the ability to remain untangled from the manipulative aspects around him and so is pure by soul, and pure by quality._

"Captain, a ship's has been sighted three points on starboard quarter."

Elizabeth jumped up from her desk, immediately walking over to the shelf where her sword rested. Tai Huang left her side and marched to the window. He craned his neck to the left, squinting slightly in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the ship through the gritty glass.

"Masts?" he asked without looking at their informer.

"Four-masted Spanish Galleon. _Vendaval._"

"Four?" Elizabeth exclaimed at Jin Hai who was already adjusting his sword and dagger on his belt.

"Aye, it has a Bonaventure mizzen," he replied.

"But those are..."

"Unbelievably rare. They were modified to make the ships swifter and more powerful a few years ago, but the one that's approaching seems to be an exception. We cannot outrun it."

It didn't sound good. With three long strides, she joined Tai Huang at the window, peering out at the distant dark silhouette of the approaching vessel.

"Friendly?" She was almost pleading now, but when she turned back, she realised that apart from Tai Huang and herself, the cabin was quite deserted; once again, Jin Hai departed noiselessly.

Tai Huang snorted.

"No ship is particularly friendly in these waters, Captain," he said. He turned his head slightly to consider her reactions. "Surely you deduced that after the event that occurred a fortnight ago. Or do you need reminding?"

Her response was cold.

"I appreciate your courtesy, but my memory is entirely dependable."

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since they left port to wade out into the open ocean; two weeks since they set off for Singapore. They had left Puerto Rico behind a week ago and without a sight of a single Spanish _costa guarda_. Elizabeth had pondered upon their good luck. _Jinxed it._ So far, they had sailed smoothly and at a pleasing speed without sighting any sinister vessels or confronting vicious storms. Tai Huang had been particularly gratified by the favourable weather and the fair winds, often looking up to the heavens to thank Mazu, the Chinese goddess of the sea.

Elizabeth wondered whether Will had the ability to influence the weather. He wasn't exactly _human_ anymore. Humans were mortals, whereas Will, he was immortal; at least until his heart continued to beat in its metal confinement. Elizabeth cast a brief look in the direction of the chest. William seemed more of a demigod. Perhaps he had encouraged Calypso to maintain the fair winds, making sure the _Empress_' journey would be quick and safe. Perhaps the distance, the many seas between them, somehow brought him closer to her. Perhaps, it was deepening his love and strengthening his faith, and granting him hope in his state of limbo. Perhaps he knew where she was right now, knew her feelings, the war raging in the pit of her stomach. But instead of feeling livelier, Elizabeth felt anxious, even scared. She shook her head firmly, clearing the thought.

"Are you intending to follow, Captain?" Tai Huang asked. He was already at the door, examining her with raised eyebrows. She knew he hadn't wholeheartedly accepted her as captain. His eyes were always glassed with suspicion and defiance, but Elizabeth knew she would break through that barrier one day.

She placed her hat upon her golden hair. Then adjusting her sword, she walked up to the man, and looking him sharply in eye, she replied, "No. I intend to lead."

* * *

"You fight well," Elizabeth said to Jin Hai as she continued soaking up the blood spilling from a wound on his upper left arm, that was thankfully away from the main artery. She could feel his eyes on her. Yet she concentrated on easing the blood flow.

"Thank you," he said. He lifted his uninjured arm as though to assist Elizabeth, but she immediately swatted it, causing him jerk slightly. "You fight with agility, Captain, though I must point out that your skills depend on luck rather than strength." She looked up to scan his features defensively. There was neither mockery, nor laughter in his eyes. From his fading scars on his bistre skin, Elizabeth had figured that though he was only a few years older than her, he was evidently more experience. He blinked once, then smiled astutely.

"Sao Feng had me trained when I was fourteen. It takes years of practice. And a good teacher," he said. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, before adding, "And luck, I suppose."

Elizabeth matched his smile, glancing at him for a brief moment.

"But like all else, luck runs out," his voice was slightly hazy, "... eventually..."

Elizabeth smiled again, this time more morosely, at Jin Hai's wisdom. He was right. Luck did run out at the eleventh hour... the same way she ran out on Jack. She stole his luck, pilfering it with the plundering kiss; yet, Jack Sparrow had won once again, for he had transformed her, body and soul, into a pirate. A narcissistic, self-seeking, self-centred pirate.

"Teach me."

Jin Hai raised both his eyebrows questioningly.

"Handling the sword?" he asked. Elizabeth continued to survey him steadily. "I'm flattered. Yes, of course, Captain."

"Thank you," she said. She briskly dabbed rum onto a piece of cloth, then turned her eyes back to him, adding, "You're not going to like this."

He raised his eyebrows, obviously unprepared as Elizabeth pressed the cloth over his wound. He let out a hiss, nothing more, but his dark eyes spat fire, trying to dissipate the pain. She shrugged apologetically then lifted herself to her feet, heading for the crate of medical supplies stationed a few feet away. But as soon as she turned, Jin Hai spoke in clear but quiet voice, bringing her to a halt.

"I apologise for my actions, Captain."

Elizabeth nodded once in comprehension.

* * *

**A/N:** Right. You know what to do, folks. :)

Sparrabethers, J/E is coming soon-ish! For now, have a flick through Kiki148's JE LJ gallery at ** (and in case ffnet decides to rip the whole link off, that's: pics(dot)livejournal(dot)com(slash)kiki148(slash)tags(slash)sparrabeth+fan+art )


	13. The Air: Jade and Azurite

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the canon PotC characters

* * *

**The Air (2): Jade and Azurite**

"Mister Gibbs, I'm going."

Gibbs recoiled from his reverie, accidentally dropping the remaining piece of bread into the bay. The fish swarmed and submerged it instantly. Jack was already pulling on his boots, poised rather unsteadily on a bare foot like a precariously balanced flamingo.

"Cap'n?" Gibbs climbed to his feet, a befuddlement spreading across his face. Jack stopped his assault on his boot, and widened his eyes as though in disbelief. He dropped his chin slightly and quickly diverted his eyes to the left before bringing them back to meet Gibbs'. Placing one booted foot on the jetty, he held up a gritty index finger and said in a clear, deliberately slow voice, "I," – he pointed to his chest – "am going." He pointed the same finger towards the horizon.

Gibbs nodded slowly, then shook his head. Casting a wary look from side to side, he leant forwards with raised eyebrows, "Where to, Jack?"

"To see a friend," said Jack in a matter-of-factly tone, putting on his other boot. Gibbs actually laughed. Jack frowned haughtily as his lips momentarily rose northwards. "Acquaintance, then." Both booted feet were on the wooden floor now.

Gibbs grin didn't falter. "That's all well, Cap'n, but you see, we're still in need of a ship."

"Aye, and therefore _you_ can stay here and await our delightful mutineers, while I go and visit my..." he glanced upwards, "... acquaintance."

"And where be this 'acquaintance'?"

Jack looked out to the ocean as his lips stretched into a genuine, golden smile, igniting the dancing twinkle of deep blue azurite in his dark, kohl-smudged eyes.

"Nassau."

* * *

"The men are very happy, Captain. A ship commandeered; the first battle won," Tai Huang said. She continued analysing the map stretched out on the table, oblivious to his entrance.

"Not the first. What was that two weeks ago?" She caught his eye and adopted a mocking tone as she rebounded his words, "Or do you need reminding?" Tai Huang's eyes momentarily narrowed further while he watched her sternly, though Elizabeth was sure she saw a flash of laughter in the dark brown orbs. She grinned then returned to the charts. "It seems we are well supplied for our journey, though we may have to make port at the Cape of Good Hope for replenishment."

The _Empress' _crew had more than eagerly ransacked the _Vendaval _for all her silver, edibles and ammunitions_,_ voracious to avenge the discomfort and inconvenience the Spaniards had caused. The torn sails and its damaged mizzen mast made it much less swift, but Elizabeth felt it was rather wasteful to leave the hefty galleon adrift especially when it could prove to be a valuable ship once repaired and restocked. They decided to tow it.

"Too dangerous," Tai Huang said immediately. He walked over to the charts sprawled over the desk and pointed to an island off the coast of south-eastern Africa. "Madagascar. Too dangerous to make port in the Cape of Good Hope. Too many ships." Elizabeth nodded slowly but he added the unsaid words anyway, "Slave trade."

"How long to Singapore?"

"My quickest journey through these waters took me three months, but with winds as favourable as these, I think we'll get there sooner. Maybe just over two months."

"I see."

"What of the prisoners, Captain?"

"What of them?"

His eyebrows furrowed and rose upwards. "We cannot have them locked up together. That will give them more than enough opportunity to conspire against us. Don't underestimate their intelligence." He paused before cocking his head and adding in a slightly lower voice, "Not that it takes much intelligence to copy a scheme that's already been employed."

Elizabeth chuckled. "You did a fine job. One would never have expected _you_ to be such a talented expert in beguiling."

"It wouldn't be fair for me to steal Jin Hai's glory."

"He had me confounded."

"He had everyone confounded. It took quite some skill to convince the crew."

"My Mandarin may be incompetent, but my hearing and eyesight definitely aren't." Elizabeth dipped her chin and raised an eyebrow. "You don't _seriously_ believe I missed all those disparaging murmurs."

Tai Huang smiled mystifying. "The men respect you more than you know, Captain. Trust is a difficult trait to implant."

"I know."

* * *

"He made me captain."

Elizabeth clutched the cool jade stone in her palm, not daring to accept the title. The explosions and shouts issuing from the deck froze momentarily, as the stale words singed bitterly on her tongue, and a wordless conversation followed between the two pirates.

Even in the dim light, the anger, disbelief and hatred washing over Tai Huang's face was conspicuous. He swivelled on the spot and left his new captain clasping the jade necklace in a tight fist.

Then she jerked suddenly, the jade warm in her hand as though it were branding her deep within; branding her as captain, branding her as pirate. _No. I was branded pirate long ago._ The fog was clearing; the answer blatant. Long, rushed strides towards the door.

Warm, salty, sea air.

The stone smooth, reassuring.

A flash of gold and silver, followed by the texture of the soldier's blade resting threateningly against her jugular, and yet, Elizabeth felt undefeatable, untouchable, as the stone exuded strength through her fingertips.

"You are not my captain!" Tai Huang spat. She met his gaze defiantly for a second then snapped her head back. There was someone in the crowd... Someone familiar...

"James!" She broke free of her captor. "James!"

"Thank God you're alive!" A swift embrace. Her body remained unresponsive, as though afraid to memorise the satisfaction of being held. "Your father will be overjoyed to know you're safe."

_Safe_. The word echoed in her mind momentarily, and it was as though the jade's aura faded with every resonating syllable. Now she felt anything but safe. The roar of the guns tore at her eardrums, threatening to deafen, threatening to weaken. _Weak._

"My father's dead," she said bluntly.

"No, that can't be true, he returned to England." There was a crease forming on his forehead.

The jade burnt again, radiating stamina through her dormant veins and revitalising her nerves.

"Did Lord Beckett tell you that?" He didn't meet her eyes.

"Who among you do you name as captain?"

Elizabeth was vaguely aware of the roar over the cannon fire. She searched James' eyes for answers, watching surprise gather behind them as the Singaporeans shouted a conjoined yell of 'HER'. "Captain?"

"Tow the ship. Put the prisoners in the brig," James ordered sharply. He turned back to Elizabeth. "The captain shall have my quarters."

James had been her friend, her companion, and yet, he had readily betrayed them, betrayed her. He handed over the heart, and for what? For _his _freedom. His freedom being the confinements of the law and the East India Trading Company. He was just as much of a pirate as she was, so why did he fear the brand? Why had he betrayed them?

The questions raged through her mind, fogging her senses. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she thought of Jack. So this was how it felt to be deceived and abandoned. This was equivalent to mutiny. This was why Jack was reluctant to trust, reluctant to believe, and reluctant to forgive. She breathed deeply, digging the jade deeper into her fist. It was channelling warmth through every part of her body, gradually clearing the fog. The spray of the sea couldn't calm its effect, nor could the howl of the wind. She knew her power. She knew herself.

"Thank you, sir," she said boldly, her chin held high, "but I prefer to remain with my crew."

Concern and sorrow flit over James' features as he griped her upper arm pleadingly. "Elizabeth, I swear. I did not know."

The speech rolled from her tongue with far more ease than she'd intended or desired. "Know what? What side you chose?" The words were bile on her tongue, but truth is bitter.

She was captain, the topmost card in the card pyramid, and yet her position depended on the cards beneath her. It would take one slip to reduce her to the bottom line. She was aware that the crew hadn't accepted her as captain. She knew she was vulnerable. _Captain Elizabeth Swann. _A purpose, a goal, a target. But the path to success has always been paved with sacrifice and failure. Elizabeth's mind was made up; she knew the sacrifice she had to make. This day, the title which had held itself primly in front of her name would forever be replaced by 'Captain'. Miss Elizabeth Swann could not coexist.

The pain in James' grey-green eyes did not stop her wrenching her arm from his grip, and retreating to stand with those who formed backbone of her new title.

"Well, now you do." Neither was it necessary to interpret their expressions, nor was it important to decipher their hushed speech. Captain Elizabeth Swann had broken the first barrier between herself and her crew.

The jade was cooling.

* * *

"I know," Elizabeth repeated quietly.

* * *

**A/N:** Things may seem a little unclear at the moment. Don't worry – the pieces will start falling together later on. Reviews make me happy. :D Thanks, Nytd, for beta reading!


	14. The Air: Acquaintance

**Disclaimer:** If you recognise it, I don't own it. Disney does.

**IMPORTANT: **I know this plot can get a little confusing, and so I've made a summary page for chapters 1 to 13 that you may want to have a look at to refresh your memory before reading chapter 14:

ht tp://i864. photobucket. com/albums/ab207/msaurora/24GurusPart1. jpg

**Make sure you get rid of the gaps in the URL!** If you have any other questions, please don't hesitate to ask. :)

* * *

**The Air (3): Acquaintance **

Nassau was a strange port. Nothing could truly destroy it– neither cannon fire, nor natural disasters. It always rose from its ashes, shaping itself into a new form with a new name. Jack came to a halt on the sandy beach and brought an open palm to his brow, attempting to shield his eyes from the intense sunlight as he squinted into the distance.

The harbour was visible. Sailors and traders paced the area, loading and unloading goods onto their ships and boats. Their cries and shouts mingled with those of the bleating livestock and the unmistakably laughter of children somewhere in the distance.

The trees rustled gently in the warm Caribbean breeze. Nearby, some fishermen were setting out to sea, going about their usual jobs – fixing the nets, mending the sails, tightening the knots. Some had returned, unloading the day's catch into baskets that were carried by their daughters or wives.

Jack frowned and scrunched his nose slightly as he scanned the panorama for a familiar figure. There wasn't one.

Good news.

Nassau and Jack went _way _back– but encouraging the residents to reminisce about that was neither necessary, nor beneficial. Nevertheless, Captain Jack Sparrow smiled his golden smile and confidently set off into the direction of the market place.

* * *

Jack should have seen it coming, but he stood still, head turned to the side and eyes squeezed shut as he brought a palm to ease the sting radiating from his left cheek.

"And DON'T tell me you didn't deserve that!"

There was a scuffling noise followed by a quiet half-cry, before dead weight was thrown upon him, trapping his arm awkwardly against his face, and nearly throwing him off-balance. It took a moment for Jack to interpret the scenario, and another moment before a smile broke across his face and his free arm slipped expertly around the girl's waist. She immediately disengaged him from the embrace and stepped back, as though suddenly aware of their close proximity. A few passersby threw amused glances in their direction, but quickly moved on to the next stalls in the market.

"Anamaria," Jack announced.

She narrowed her eyes.

"You." She took a small step towards him and jabbed his chest with one sharp finger. "You come back here _months _and _months _and _months _after you leave me here to... to..." she looked around frantically, "'_deliver' _a letter, to a bloody address that doesn't bloody _exist _in the whole of bloody Nassau, while you sailed away with the _Pearl_?" she exclaimed. Jack held out his hands in a pacifying gesture.

"_Actually_..." But Ana's fury was not to be tamed with such simplicity.

"Do you have _any _idea how long it took me to run through every street, every tavern, every whorehouse in this bloody place, looking for bloody '_Captain _Fulham' who is – did I happen to mention – bloody nonexistent," she fumed, "You–" She gritted her teeth and breathed heavily. The angry fire dancing in her eyes caused Jack to recoil slightly. "You– OH– Damn you, Jack Sparrow; I ought to drown you and your bloody ship! You're–" Jack saw the opportune moment.

"I'm terribly sorry, darlin', but someone's already beaten you to that."

Ana ceased her rant abruptly, and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she asked in a low disbelieving whisper. A pause. Jack regretted his words immediately – she obviously wasn't thinking along the same lines...

"YOU LOST HER _AGAIN_?" she shrieked. A few heads turned in their directions, some of the nearby vendors watching with mild amusement. Jack opened his mouth wide as if to blurt into full explanation, but then pursed it again, deciding that there was far too much to be said in order to update Ana completely. Unfortunately, she took his lack of answer as an affirmative reply. _SMACK! _

Jack was not ready for that one either.

* * *

Though Ana was watching him sceptically, Jack continued outlining the final battle scene with much enthusiasm, punctuating it with flamboyant hand gestures, sieving out any... irrelevant information.

And occasionally adding some.

"Hold up there. You want me to believe that you remained on the _Pearl_." She hitched an eyebrow. "Without a row or a tantrum."

"That'll be the," – he did an exaggerated finger count – "fifth time you asked me that in the last turn of the hourglass, love."

She wasn't convinced. "I can believe Barbossa returning from the dead; I can believe Tia Dalma being Calypso; I can even believe that you were swallowed by a great big mythological monster, but how can I possibly believe that _you, _of all people, selflessly _allowed_ the beast to drag you down with _Pearl_, Jack Sparrow?"

"_Captain_," he corrected automatically, rolling his eyes. Then seeing the fire spark in Ana's eyes, he hastily altered his sentence; attempting to diminish another one of Ana's emotional explosions could prove near-fatal. ".... goes down with the ship."

She seemed to detect his judgement and grinned triumphantly. "Do you _seriously_ think living in Nassau has desiccated my brain... Jack Sparrow?"

Jack narrowed his eyes momentarily, assessing her impertinence and smiled daringly, ready to cajole. "Come now, darlin', it can't have been _that _bad."

Ana looked down at her toes, deliberately digging them further into the sand. "It was," she replied quietly.

Jack's smile faltered, "Look, it's not so easy when the crew demands –"

"He came back."

The words went dry in his tongue as he stopped mid-speech, his mouth agape.

* * *

The coast of Nassau was visible now. The final rays of sunlight kissed the lamp-lit docks, causing them to flicker like overhead stars in the darkening sky. The ebony vessel glissaded towards the harbour, dancing serenely in time to the lull of the gentle waves beneath her hull. Despite the near-nonexistent wind, she glided more smoothly and quickly than usual, causing her captain to cast a proud but puzzled glance at her billowing dark sails.

He stood on the forecastle deck, breathing in the ocean air, as the fingers of one hand brushed absentmindedly over the head of his animal companion. The sea smelt different today. Today the salty spray of the ocean did not caress his roughened cheeks with the charm and smoothness that signified freedom; instead, it called like the woeful gulls, as though it were spelling defeat.

"He's here."

Barbossa knew.

* * *

**A/N: **Once again, thank you Nytd for beta-ing, and thank you Captain Meghan and KissOfDeathJE for your lovely reviews. A special thanks to Damsel, Moonlit Severus and Pirate-on-fleet-street for their continued support. :)


	15. The Moth: A Breeze, A Gust, A Whisper

**Disclaimer: **Disney owns them.

* * *

**The Moth (1): A Breeze, A Gust, A Whisper**

_The woman's form is a _maya _which enchants even a wise man if he fails to control his senses. His mind will be instantly captured by the sweetness in her talk, the honey in her smile and the sensuousness of her movements, like the moth that destroyed itself by charging into the licking flames of the warm, mesmerising fire._

Jack stared up at the night sky, subconsciously joining the uncountable twinkling orbs on their velvet tapestry. They sparkled back at him peacefully, unchanging and beautiful, as though they were encrusted diamonds, out of reach. How far away they seemed! Just like all that a man wanted most. His deepest desire always remained out of reach, taunting him to seek it madly; unyieldingly.

For ten years, all Jack sought was the _Pearl_ and he chased it, and each time, she slipped through his fingers like grains of sand through a tight fist. He tried to retrieve her despite being advised to wait until the stars above changed their arrangements, permitting fate to be more merciful. But Jack couldn't _wait_. No man waits to achieve that which he desires most. No pirate waits before plundering the treasure.

He absentmindedly lifted his hand and examined the turquoise ring on his left thumb. In the dark, it was radiant, as though emanating a faint blue-green glow.

* * *

Jack could smell the sea. The waves lapped, the breeze felt cold against his skin, and yet the heat of the sun burnt him sharply, painting shades of maroon and red under his closed eyelids.

'_Jack...'_

He drew a long, slow breath.

'_Jack...'_

His lungs were full; he couldn't breathe in any longer. He couldn't breathe at all.

'_Am I important to you?' Laughter. Joyous, carefree. _He could almost feel her breathing against his neck; peaceful, comforting. The wind tickled his cheek. But it didn't feel like the wind; it felt like her auburn hair nestling over his body. The corners of Jack's mouth turned upwards softly in a smile, and his lips parted in anticipation for a kiss that he knew, would certainly follow. Very slowly, he dragged his upper teeth over his bottom lip, tasting the sea.

'_Treasure...' _He exhaled slowly.

'_No! It's cursed... Don't...'_

'_I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...' Cold steel. Cold, deadly steel._

'_Jack...'_

'_Everything's alright...'_

'_Jack...'_

_A resonating crack. Unresponsive glazed eyes._

_Dark, dark, dark._

'_Jack...' _

Jack jerked his eyes open, and sunlight flooded them painfully. He squeezed them shut again, flinching slightly and turning his head to the side, feeling the rough grains of sand against his skin. White smoky rings appeared behind his eyelids.

'_You're safe, you're with me.'_

'_Jack...'_

No words, or actions were enough to express the emotions bottled within him. Jack lay still, unmoving for a longer time than he could remember. Ky Ling's laughing eyes, her laughing face, plagued his mind, making the memories seem so unbelievably real, that Jack was almost certain she wasn't a hallucination.

There was a throb at the back of his skull, pulsating more uncomfortably with every second that passed. Jack raised an aching arm, pressing his palm over it, hoping to ease the pain. He twitched slightly, scrunching his eyes as blurred images began forming on the maroon screen.

A ship. There was a ship. The _Pearl. _Sailing away, farther and farther with every blink. Jack had regained consciousness in time to watch the darkness engulfed her, as she sailed into the horizon.

He willed the picture to fade away as he gently applied pressure over his cranium, but the memory would not vanish; remaining, clear in his mind like the permanent colours on a painter's canvas. Watching the _Pearl _slinking away was more painful than watching the _Wench _ablaze and sinking, but even that feeling could not be compared with that which he felt as Ky Ling's life trickled away from between his fingers.

Her blood would forever remain upon his hands.

The anger, the remorse, the pain welled up inside him and yet, there was no way he could express them with due justice. Jack turned onto his side, and with much difficulty, pushed himself into a sitting position. His head spun nauseatingly.

Rum. He needed rum.

One hand involuntarily shot out, searching for a bottle. Unable to locate it, he reluctantly opened his eyes. Empty bottles were littered around him, and the smell of rum exuded from his clothes and breath. His whole body ached, as though he were severely bruised all over. The effect of the rum was obviously fading.

Rum. He needed rum.

Jack lifted himself to his feet and stumbled towards the nearby coconut tree. Leaning against the slim trunk, he slunk his chin to his chest, desperately trying to fight off the dizziness.

'_Enough alcohol...' _She was speaking again, her voice echoing through his mind.

'_I will NOT take a drunken man to bed; I will NOT...' _He clasped his head in his palms and staggered in the direction of the rum cellar.

'_Love, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow.'_

'_Jack...'_

Three days were enough for him to memorise the location of the cellar that he had stumbled upon on the first night. He knew he was close. He placed a palm on another tree, leaning against it, breathing heavily. But it was as though his lungs weren't filling sufficiently. He pushed away from the tree, forcing himself to careen towards the cellar, his muscles screaming in protest as his head swirled with fragmented thoughts.

'_I'm sorry... so sorry...'_

Jack's body collided heavily next to the entrance to the rum cellar, and he was unconscious once more.

* * *

**A/N: **This wouldn't be half as decent without Nytd's beta-ing. Thank you! Thanks to PoFS, Damsel, CHM, Stutley Constable, Lasgalendil, KissOfDeathJE and Cinderellagirl14 for their continued support– I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it.


	16. The Moth: Saboteur and Saviour

**The Moth (2): Saboteur and Saviour**

There was someone talking.

They didn't speak in English, but Jack's mind was too disarranged to deduce the words or even the accent. He continued to draw in slow breaths. The pain at the back of his head had receded to a dull throb, but nevertheless, Jack was aware of its presence.

Someone was tapping his cheek, and far from gently. He frowned and groaned, unable to muster the energy to swat away the pestering object. A sprinkle of seawater. Jack furrowed his eyebrows further, as something stirred in his mind.

"¿Muerto?" A voice in the distance.

"No, inconsciente." Another, slightly sharper voice. This one sounded closer and more irritated.

"¿Señor?"

_Spanish_. He opened his eyes immediately. A tall, lean man was crouched next to him, and a few feet away stood another shorter and brawnier form. Jack blinked rapidly, trying to focus his eyes.

"¿Qué demonios? ¿Por qué estás aquí?"

Jack rubbed the back of his wrists in circular motion over his eyes, as the two Spaniards continued their questioning. By the time Jack had regained his voice, the man sitting next to him had evidently lost his patience, and was openly firing insults in Jack's general direction; whereas the one standing farther away was trying to retrieve answers with a decidedly better demeanour.

"To my greatest regret, gentleman, I only speak English." A lie. But if they were going to continue showering him with Spanish curses, they were going to get everything but the truth.

They stopped abruptly. For a long moment, the three men stared at one another wordlessly. The lean, closer sailor quirked an eyebrow, and looked to his companion.

"Ah. We were beginning to think you were dumb, sire," replied the shorter man, walking to Jack. His accented voice was suddenly calmer. The fog hindering Jack's vision had cleared, and revealed the unsightly dislike in the man's grey eyes, layered with mock friendship.

_Typical. Typical, mate._

The shorter man joined the taller one by Jack's side, and exchanged a few words in Spanish that Jack understood only too clearly. Then turning back to Jack, he continued speaking, "Mr..."

"Jones."

"What are you doing here?"

"Well you see, our ship was attacked and I was thrown overboard. When I regained consciousness, I was here. Maybe I floated on a piece of wood adrift or the likes."

The man looked suspicious as he translated Jack's words.

"That's still a pathetic excuse, Captain. He emptied a quarter of the stocks!" exclaimed the thin man in Spanish, scowling. The captain turned to Jack.

"My first mate isn't very happy about the fact that you have drained half our stock of rum," he said. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now."

Jack flashed the most cheerful smile he could muster, bring both index fingers adjacent to each other between himself and the man. "For more than one reason, gentlemen. Firstly –" he touched the tip of the right finger to the left "– that would be _ever _so hostile and inhospitable of the gracious gentlemen you are; secondly –" he uncurled his middle finger of his left hand, and tapped it with the right pointer finger – "am I correct in believing that you're from Spain?"

"Yes."

"And you're aware of Captain Chevalle?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "Yes, I'm quite aware of the reason behind the destruction of my vessels."

Jack smirked. "Well, I have information which may prove valuable to ferret out said reason."

"What makes you think your terms will be acceptable, Mr. Jones?"

"Nothing!" Jack said merrily, "I'll exchange information for passage. You may kill me but you may _never _insult me..."

The captain regarded Jack with a steely gaze, then stood up, beckoning his first mate to follow. Jack quirked an eyebrow as the two men spoke in a hushed conversation a few feet away.

"I don't know if we can trust him, Captain. He's –"

"He claims to know inside information about Chevalle! We can't just leave him. If Frasier finds out that we've let slip an opportunity like this, he'll kill you _and _me."

Of course Jack knew Chevalle. He'd wanted to decipher the Spaniards' relationship with Chevalle. If they were on cooperating grounds, he'd intended to convince the captain that Chevalle was an old friend of his, meaning Jack's. Unfortunately, the Spanish captain sported a particular abhor towards the Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean Sea, and Jack had only one thing left to barter: information. As he watched the two men conversing, he wondered whether it would be worth facing the wrath of the Lord of the Mediterranean Sea. Chevalle already had more than enough reasons to shoot him there and then. _No problem then, is there, mate? You're pretty buggered either way. Nothing wrong with bartering some information if it's going to forestall the final judgement._

Somewhere at the back of his mind, a new voice rung: '_Thirteen years'._

Jack jerked out of his reverie with a sudden jolt which was violent enough to revive the throbbing at the back of his skull. He clambered to his feet unsteadily, and swaggered towards the Spaniards.

"No sé de qué me hablas!" the shorter man was exclaiming. Jack had to agree with him: he didn't know what the captain was talking about either.

"Enough." The short man silenced his first mate with a swipe of his hand. "You will not argue on this matter any further, Jacob."

It was then that he realised Jack sauntering towards them. He put on his artificial smile, his eyes boring into Jack's, coldly.

"Señor, we have come to a decision."

Jack smiled pleasantly, and clasped his hands at his chest.

"We shall take you onboard, provided you give us information regarding Chevalle and... hmm let's see..." He cast as casual look over Jack's gleaming collection of trinkets and jewellery. "That _ring _might fetch quite some money, no? From the West?" He pointed at the turquoise ring.

"_The world is full of pretences. I'm real." _

Jack's smile faltered as he shook off the hallucinating voice.

"Yes."

"Onboard the ship, you will not cause any disruptions, nor attempt to take any possessions that do not belong to you. You will cooperate with the members, and follow orders without haste or opposition. I'm afraid you will have to deal with the consequences if you fail to abide by the rules. And the consequences will not be pleasant."

"Agreed."

Jack took his time removing the ring, and after much exaggerated wrenching and tugging, he held it tightly in his palm, the silver dragons formed pressure marks upon the calluses beneath. Then extending a stiff arm, he dropped the ornament into the captain's open palm.

"Thank you, Captain..."

"Captain Alexander Gomez." The man turned and gestured to the ship floating in the distance. "Welcome aboard the _Vendaval._"

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's been an incredibly long time since I last posted (and read!) anything on ffnet, but university life is turning out to be way more hectic than I'd imagined... and it's not just the workload- it's amazing how many times you fall ill when you live with 14 other people. You learn a lot of things, including the fact that your washing-up won't do itself. Makes you wonder why you used to grumble about little everyday chores at home...

Anyway, fingers crossed, I'll find some more time to write from now onwards. I really quite miss reading fanfiction too, but hopefully, I'll be able to squeeze in a few reading sessions over breakfast or lunch. :D Thank you for all your lovely reviews, and a special thank you to **Lasgalendil **for helping me with those Spanish phrases. And of course, as usual, a huge thank you to Nytd for the swift beta-read. I can't thank you enough.


	17. The Moth: A Woman's Wrath

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the canon PotC character.

* * *

**The Moth (3): A Woman's Wrath**

Jack stood in the brig of the _Vendaval_ staring at the girl sitting in the corner.

"Here. Eat."

Her jaw was set, her eyes narrowed.

"Keep your sympathy to yourself, Jones," she spat. "If you had any brains, you wouldn't be aboard this damned vessel in the _first _place, and now that you are, you'd do me _and _yourself a favour if you shut up and think of a way to get out."

Jack cocked his head slightly, a small, unnoticeable crease forming on his forehead.

"Repeat that."

Teeth gritted, she exhaled forcefully, now clearly irritated.

"I said that if you had the brains, you..."

"...wouldn't be aboard this damn ship in the first place." Jack smirked. It wasn't a nice smirk.

"I– I had my reasons. It wasn't my fault either so keep your nose where it belongs, or else there won't be one left."

Jack's grin widened. He stood up and strolled across the cell to where the girl sat, her head against their metal confinement. She made no attempt to move, but stared at him defiantly, warning in her eyes.

"Look, here, darling –"

"Anamaria."

Jack inclined his head to allow one slow, casual nod. "A little more cooperation may be necessary before any kind of plan forms, so why don't you and I exchange our little stories while our _notorious_ little minds rattle up some kind of strategy?"

She raised an eyebrow. Feigning an exasperated tone, Jack continued, "Very well, then; I shall start! I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." The second eyebrow joined its companion at the bottom-edge of the girl's bandana. She opened her mouth, as though to interject, and Jack saw his opportunity. "Your turn."

She pursed her lips, but Jack could see curiosity dancing in her eyes, dangerous and inquisitive. He smiled a little, watching her contemplating the situation.

"You know my name."

"Aye, I do," he said, absentmindedly twirling a beaded beard. "I was marooned on the dismal spit of land nigh on four days ago."

The curiosity intensified, gleaming and hungry. A slight frown was forming between her eyebrows. Jack knew he had her engaged in the conversation. When it came to cajoling and beguiling, Jack was a connoisseur.

"I was exchanged for freedom."

"I lost my freedom in more than one way."

The frown was dominating her forehead now, questions obviously swirling in her mind. "What do you mean?"

"Technically, it's _your _turn to answer; therefore it's _me _who'll be asking that question," he replied softly, eyes glittering too triumphantly for the girl to ignore. She cast him a disdainful look.

"They attacked the ship and bargained the safety of the crew in exchange for all their valuables –" Their eyes met. "– and me."

"Why were you on the ship anyw–?"

A rumble sounded. Jack gave her a lopsided smile. "You should eat."

She glared. Jack gave her an ironic bow with many extravagant gestures, before retreating to the opposite side of the brig where he slid down to the floor and closed his eyes lazily, the sound of the seawater colliding against the hull momentarily soothing his raging thoughts and uneasy dreams. Jack knew that if he didn't busy himself soon enough, the lull of the sea would not be able to fend off his hallucinations. He needed to talk; to do _anything _but dwell into his thoughts, because every word, every link, every memory would trace back to the past...

* * *

_The doors were shut, the windows unlit; the moon hidden behind leaden grey clouds. A lone man strode briskly along a remote Tortugan street, stepping with purpose towards the house with the black door. There was no wind, and yet his shirt billowed softly, the trinkets in his hair clinking musically to his determined steps. He didn't blink. Instead, his dark eyes skimmed over every closed door, recalling this path and the memories joined to it..._

_He was standing outside a ebony door, his left hand slithering over the dark wood, the silver-green ring contrasting strikingly upon it. A knock; loud and deafening. It shattered the stillness of the deserted street, and yet, the silence pieced together with unnatural ease. A feather-light push, and the door opened to a darkened room, a single dying candle illuminating a womanly figure seated on a rocking chair._

_Another loud crash, even more thunderous than the first. This time, the tranquillity didn't return._

_The hilt of the silver dagger was cool under his fingertips._

* * *

Jack awoke just in time to watch the girl yank the already injured man by the collar, against the metal bars with a third, even louder clang. Blood spattered from his forehead and high cheekbones, spraying the girl's shirt a shade of deep scarlet. The man's own dark coat seemed to absorbed the liquid, and the white shirt inside earned itself a few small stains. Naturally, the assaulted pirate opened his mouth to let out a yell, but before he could make so much as a retching sound, Anamaria wrenched him towards the cage one more time, eliciting a soft groan as he abandoned all efforts and slid to the floor.

"Bloody hell."

Anamaria didn't turn to face Jack. She squatted, and slipped her hands through the bars, exploring the pockets of the unconscious pirate. Before Jack could make his way to her side, she'd located the key, opened the door, and was arming herself with a dagger and a pistol.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he hissed, half-amazed, half-anxious, as he stepped out of the cell. "You'll wake the whole bloody ship with that racket."

In one swift movement, she drew the dagger, pointing it in a way that was almost as dangerous as the anger dancing in her narrowed eyes.

"Can you think of a better option? I wasn't the one dozing off while they came to tell me they was to haul us overboard at dawn." She lowered her weapon. "And are you deaf?"

Jack thought he had heard it, but presumed it was part of the chaotic voices and sounds playing unceasingly through his mind. His lack of response resulted in her pursing her lips tightly and rolling her eyes.

"They're friggin' merrymakin'!" she exclaimed, frustration and disbelief in every syllable. "A few minutes from Nassau, they decides they was heading back to Cuba to meet the captain's brother."

"If they're celebrating, why are you here?" he asked, glancing swiftly over her form. She looked like she was going to retort, but froze, a small frown dominating her temples fleetingly: she seemed to notice the lack of lechery in his gaze.

"Why do you think that blasted idiot came down here?" She jerked a thumb towards the man sprawled on the floor. "If I weren't bothered about some filthy rat of a captain threatenin' to slit my throat lest I willingly let him toss me between the crew, I wouldn't be tryin'. It's not a problem if they was to throw me overboard: We're not so far from shore, and I can swim somewhat." There was a pause, after which she continued in a mildly worried voice. "Can you?"

A grunt sounded from the man sprawled on the floor. Immediately, Ana made for the bars, but Jack got there first, grasping the pistol from her belt and clubbing the man's head. He lost consciousness. Jack pinched the pirate's chin and tossed his head to the left, then right. He'd barely finished contemplating the situation when Ana's fierce whisper came from the bottom of the stairs: "Sparrow!" She stared at him as he remained mum. "You _fool. _Aren't you comin'?"

Jack stood up, apparently worriless, and approached the girl with a slightly drunken swagger. He surprised himself with the lazy smile that was tugging at his lips; in reality, Jack's guts were writhing in anticipation, knotting in anxiousness as his mind instinctively started moulding a new plan.

A mixture of suspicion, curiosity and irritation adorned Ana's tanned features as she observed him momentarily before pivoting on the spot, and heading up the steps. In one rapid motion, Jack grasped her wrist, fingertips resting over her vigorous pulse. Her eyes widened in surprise rather than anger, but he placed a finger over his lips in an attempt to keep her from retorting, nonetheless.

"It would be utterly irrational to leave our dear friend sprawled on the floor, especially if some particularly combative comrades decide to make a little side trip to fetch dear deleterious damsel."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you coming?"

"I'm quite complacent here, thank you."

She was going to riposte, he knew it; that woman really ought to keep her mouth shut once in a while.

"That bloke there is the first mate, love," he continued, walking towards the bars before turning back to watch her with feigned amusement.

She opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. Then throwing a cautious look at the stairs, she hissed, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Strangely, I recall your brutal methods awakening me from the most... _bewitching _dream."

Even as he attempted to maintain his smug smile, his body shuddered unpleasantly at the sudden mental recollection of the dark street and the cool metal.

"They're going to kill us." Ana ran her hand over her face as she began pacing the bottom of the stairs. "No no no no _no. Why _didn't you tell me?! He's – he's the third Gomez brother, the captain's first mate. The eldest is in Cuba. You do _anything _to _any _of them, and they would hunt you down both body and soul." She reached the wooden wall and slid to the floor, her hand coming to a rest at her forehead. "They're going to kill us."

Pushing himself off the bars, Jack came to a stop in front of her, dipped his chin, and smiled a golden smile. A plan, an idea.

"Well lucky for you, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." She looked up with a hint of irritation. He continued, "You go charging onto that deck now, and you'll be shot before you can even say 'rum'. Evening's approaching. I wager one of the crew members is going to come down to light the lantern, and it would be entirely unfortunate if they were to find their first mate half-dead."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"What say you we transfer this fine gentleman and make him snug and cosy in that dusky patch over there, after tending to all these wounds and bruises – in other words, the aftermath of your most delightful encounter; which, might I add, must _not _be repeated when he's being ensconced –and make sure that _we_ stay _in _our hospitable cage until our hosts visit us or doze off, whichever happens first."

She fought to hide her confusion.

"So basically, we keep him in the dark corner and wait until they're asleep," he summarised.

"Won't they miss their first mate?"

"After dark, it doesn't _matter_..." Jack smirked.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks to Nytd for beta reading, and to Fleet and Damsel for their continued support.  
Things have begun weaving together, though you may need to squint in order to notice them. And skip back a few chapters (five sounds like a good number).  
Reviews make me happy. Even if they're simple one-liners. :)


	18. The Moth: Quién Nunca se Equivoca

**Disclaimer**: Disney owns Pirates of the Caribbean.

**IMPORTANT: Hello, dear readers! I know it's been a while since I last updated, and so I've put together two summary pages that you might want to have a quick look at to refresh your memories before reading chapter 18. **

**Chapter 1 to 13: **ht tp://i864. photobucket. com/albums/ab207/msaurora/24GurusPart1. jpg  
**Chapter 13 to 17: **ht tp://i864. photobucket. com/albums/ab207/msaurora/24GurusPart2. jpg

**Make sure you get rid of the spaces that have deliberately been put into the URLs above **(otherwise, ffnet rips them off)**.** If you have any other questions, please do ask. :)

* * *

**The Moth (4): Quién Nunca se Equivoca Nada Aprende**

"You _can't _be serious."

"Either trust me or humour me, darling."

Even in the darkening brig, Jack noticed the arrogant, disdainful look that crossed her face. Nevertheless, she strode over to the collapsed body, and crouched at the man's head, sliding her arms under his armpits, elbows locking at his shoulders. Jack doubled over and grasped the man's booted feet.

Lifting the man was more difficult than it seemed. He was as tall as Jack, but given his dead weight, he was almost impossible to carry. After several attempts, they managed to half-carry, half-drag the body into the dark corner.

"Now, m'lady, the keys."

She located the correct one, and pressed it into Jack's open palm.

They both heard the loud click.

"And now we wait."

* * *

As always, Captain Jack Sparrow was right.

He glanced at Ana once, allowing a silent triumphant grin to slip over his lips.

"I can't see him. Maybe he went back upstairs," someone was saying in Spanish. The first man looked around, and his eyes came to a rest upon the prisoners. He tilted his head, and an ugly sneer stretched across his face, distorting his features. He hiccoughed. "Ah! The missy is still here! Jacob's taken awfully long; we were worried he was troubling you..."

Jack hadn't known Ana for long, but admittedly, it wouldn't take a man more than a few minutes in her presence to realise that her reply to a comment like that would be far from friendly.

"_Actually_, gentlemen, no one's been here since sundown." Jack spoke in English.

In his drunkenness, or perhaps _because _of it, the pirate stared at Jack for several seconds before shrugging his shoulders. After much repetition and hand gestures, Jack managed to convince them that their first mate was probably on deck, and the pair hobbled back up the stairway.

Jack sucked in a deep breath.

_There is no game without risk._

The moment the two men disappeared, Jack and Ana jumped to their feet and simultaneously sidled to the unconscious man in the shadowy corner. Ana worked wordlessly, pushing the man's dark coat off and unbuttoning his white shirt with nimble fingers. Jack watched her for a fraction of a heartbeat, but didn't speculate further; he peeled his shirt off over his head in one practiced motion and began undoing the green bandana.

As the fabric unwrapped, his forehead tingled at the sensation of the cool air, and he ran an abraded palm over his eyebrows. Then, picking up the shirt next to Ana, he slipped into it easily. It was slightly loose, but Jack was too comfortable in the smooth fabric to mutter a complaint. His own coarse shirt was being worn by the man on the floor.

Ana got to her feet, and thrust the coat into Jack's hands before stepping back to look at him. Given the darkening evening and the single flickering lantern at the top of the stairs, Jack doubted whether she could see anything. He cast her a wary look. She frowned, then turned back to the unconscious pirate, swiftly undid the sash she'd tied around his waist and held it out to Jack.

Jack glanced down at his garments. Across his midsection were small blood stains, prominent against their white background. Taking the sash, he tied it firmly around his abdomen. He put on the man's dark coat, making sure to trap all his dreadlocks under the heavy material. Atop his head, he placed the hat. It sat more snugly than his own.

Then, meeting Ana's gaze for a long moment, he turned on the spot and headed towards the exit. The keys clinked silently in time to the inaudible jingle of the small trinkets in the hidden pocket of his breeches.

* * *

The ship was big; much larger than the _Pearl. _Many years ago, as a lad, he had heard stories of antiquated four-masted ships that had supposedly been modified to assemble speedier and more powerful man o' wars. Considering that they were halfway to Nassau when the captain decided to alter course, Jack concluded that despite its size, the _Vendaval_ moved swiftly. Not as swiftly as his _Pearl_, of course.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he cast a quick look in both directions, straining his ears to distinguish the mumble of voices. He frowned slightly as he tried to comprehend the atypical layout of the ship.

A sole lantern illuminated the far left side of the landing, and somewhere on the right, another lamp seemed to be flickering. Jack settled on turning right. As expected, the source of light was simply another lantern, but this one illuminated a large ajar trapdoor and the stairs that descending into the room below it. _The hold? _

Voices seeped through the opening, but instead of leaving to find a different route, Jack's instincts spurred him to retrieve one of the first mate's pistols and enter the room slowly, carefully.

The stars must have favoured him that night, for any other man would have stepped on a creaking stair, easily elucidating the presence of an intruder.

There were two men standing with their backs to Jack. He looked around. Rum, lots of it. The weapons and the food must be kept elsewhere. A lantern hung, rather conveniently, at the foot of the stairs to keep the rum from setting ablaze. _That_ would be entirely unfortunate.

"How many for this round did the captain say, Javier?" asked one of them in Spanish, withdrawing two bottles of rum from the higher shelves.

"It doesn't matter. Take as many. It's not long till the captain retires for the night, anyway; it's almost time for Jacob's watch. Where _is _he?"

Jack risked a quick smile. The stars were on his side, indeed.

"Don't know. Went to get the lass, didn't he?" He paused. "I don't mind as long as I get my fair share."

Jack held his breath and promptly doused the lamp. Immediately, the room was consumed by considerable darkness, save the faint glow of the lantern on the upper landing. Then, before they could react, he glided up the stairs, two steps at a time, toes barely scraping the wood. He was two steps short from the landing when the men bellowed groans and curses in the general direction of the extinguished lamp. From the clink of bottles being replaced on the racks and the consequent shuffling of feet, he knew one of them was heading towards him.

Jack saw his opportunity: "JAVIER!" He had not heard the first mate speak since that morning, and only hoped that this feigned voice would pass by easily.

It didn't.

"Who calls?" A voice asked.

"Jacob, you dimwit. Why the hell is it dark here? Hurry, the captain won't be happy if you take so damn long to collect a few bottles of rum."

"What happened to your voice?" asked the second voice.

"What happened to it?"

"It's... different."

"Javier, have you been emptying the _remaining _half of our rum stock? Sparrow's caused us enough damage without a second idiot messing up the business."

"Yes, it _is _sounding a little deeper," the second voice commented, "Wait. Let me relight that lantern."

Jack's heart was pounding, but his mind was set. "Don't bother, I'll do it. Get on deck. Alexander's shift will be over in a tick, and he'll want a bottle or two before he retires."

"_You_ should be the one to talk about time..." He heard a snigger. "Did you get the girl?"

"Not yet. Get the drinks."

"But you went to fetch her an hour ago!"

Jack narrowed his eyes despite knowing that they couldn't see his expressions, and answered in a cold, confident voice: "Are you questioning my actions, sailor?" He paused, secretly pleading for them to remain silent. They did. Jack continued in a friendlier tone: "Quickly, now. Get the rum on deck, and I'll bring the lass up."

The men chuckled in approval. Jack kept a safe distance from them, making sure to keep his face in the shadows. He picked up a bottle, uncorked it and took a healthy swig.

"Actually," said Jack, "Javier, why don't you take the rum to Alexander first, and _we'll_ bring the lass up."

* * *

At first, Ana struggled to wrench her wrist from his grip, but when he deliberately slackened his hold, confusion clouded her features and she gasped. Jack gave her a sharp look, and she understood, immediately resuming her struggle which, this time, was contrived.

The Spaniard watched gleefully from behind as Jack edged Ana towards the stairs, and she complied.

Though the aisle was unlit, the light from the above deck illuminated the stairway. Still in the shadows, Jack's mind worked furiously. His disguise heavily depended on the dim light, and he knew that although he was dressed in the first mate's attire, a single lantern was enough to extinguish all hope of escape.

A chilling drawl came from nearby, freezing his thoughts: "Jacob."

"Captain," declared the sailor behind him. Ana stopped fidgeting. Jack closed his eyes. _Improvise!_

"Shit!" Jack exclaimed in Spanish. Then searching his pockets, he announced, "I left the keys downstairs." He braved a quick glance at the captain before continuing to rummage the contents of all his pockets _except _the one in which the keys rested silently. "Captain, if you take the girl to your cabin, I shall return with the keys. I have some important news to share."

There was a shuffling noise as the girl was passed between the two men. She did not struggle. In fact, she went rather submissively. Jack frowned.

"Very well."

As soon as the two words rang, Jack turned on the spot and descended into the shadows, saying over his shoulder: "And get this corridor relit, sailor!"

* * *

A little shy of half an hour, Jack entered the _Vendaval_'s spacious and artistically decorated cabin to find a man sprawled amongst shattered glass pieces on the floor. At the far end of the room was a balcony, and there was a lone figure standing by the low rails. Jack look around the room, then swooped down to retrieve his own ring and all others from the captain's fingers. He glanced at the silver and turquoise ornament, and ran a rough finger over it. Then, straightening up, he located his weapons which had been placed atop a barrel next to the bookshelf.

Still looking over his shoulder, he approached Ana, a smile playing on his lips. "I don't suppose I'll receive an explanation for _that_ even if I asked you."

"Correct."

"You know, Ana, I don't know whether to laud you or run away screaming. You have a tendency to sabota–"

She cast him a dry look.

"For now, just shut up," she said, "See those shoals there? If we _are _heading towards Cuba, we'll be sailing South-west, I think. That way, we'll be close enough to swim to land.""

"Swimming all the way to the shore? You're on your own, love," he mused, casting a quick look around before opening his compass. The arrow quivered and settled at 280 degrees. Jack's gaze followed it. Beneath the crescent moon, small lights flickered in the distance, indicating the presence of a small Bahamian settlement, which evidently wasn't Nassau.

The sounds from the deck and quarterdeck were loud, clear. He swivelled around to cast a glance through the door behind them. The captain was still motionless on the floor. There didn't seem to be much blood, so hopefully, if the crew found him soon enough, he'd live. Jack deduced that spending the rest of his life avoiding _another _two men would not be anything too out of the ordinary, though admittedly, it would be rather inconvenient.

No worries; once he got the _Pearl _back, it wouldn't matter.

"Fine. Suit yourself and get keelhauled when they find the captain and first mate injured," she said. There was a pause. "And if you're worried about getting eaten before you reach land, I'm quite sure the kraken and seadragons don't prevail in _these _waters."

She meant it as a jest, but Jack cast her a dark look.

"Captain Gomez?" There was a rap on the door, followed by a string of Spanish words. Jack saw the panic in Ana's eyes, and felt his own insides clench uncomfortably. "Captain? We have a situation here."

Jack cast one look out to sea, then grabbed Ana's forearm tightly and began dragging her across the room, towards the cabin door. As he'd expected, she let out a short scream, a cry; and Jack responded to the man outside the door, "I'm busy."

Understanding dawned on Ana's face.

"But sir–"

"Are you incapable of resolving _anything _without my intervention?" Jack groaned in a hoarse voice. Ana followed his cue with a curse, a moan. Outside, another voice joined the first.

"Aye Captain, but the men–"

"Later!" Jack roared. He couldn't take a risk. Perhaps they'd discovered Jacob in the brig. No, if they had, they would have charged into the cabin by now. Ana's bold and defiant expression suddenly etched with fear as the man on the floor stirred slightly, fleetingly. Anytime now, the captain could come to his senses and raise an alarm. It was only a matter of time.

Jack's eyes darted across the room and came to a rest on the barrel where his weapons had been. He reached it with three long strides, and opened the lid. Save a few books and a coil of thick rope, it was empty. Jack flung the books aside, and thrust the line into Ana's hands, emptying the barrel completely.

"When you get the signal, climb down and stay on the starboard side. Try to remain underwater and don't splash about too much," whispered Jack.

"What signal?"

The knocking outside had resumed, and a third voice was speaking. _No time_. Sprinting into the balcony, Ana tied the rope to the starboard side while Jack precariously mounted the low rail on the opposite side. Then holding the empty barrel with both hands, he caught a glimpse of disbelief in her eyes and threw himself off the port rail.

He must've attracted some attention, he knew, but the trick was to remain still, and perhaps in the crescent moon, the barrel floating above him would pass off as a common sea creature.

A _turtle_, for example.

Half a minute later, Jack lifted his face a few inches above the surface to accept air into his aching lungs, and at the same time, looked around for the girl. He couldn't see her, which probably meant _they _couldn't see her either.

It was difficult to say how long he remained there, treading water. In all honesty, it wouldn't have been more than five minutes, but underneath the heavy, drenched coat, his muscles were screaming as though they had been drudging for hours. Finally, when the ship was about a mile away, Jack shed the coat, and began swimming slowly towards the shore. When he found the hat floating in the distance, he held it in a tight fist: a memento for this adventure. Should he survive, of course.

By the time Jack reached the beach, his legs had turned to pulp, and his body, now overcome by exhaustion, fell promptly into the sand.

* * *

A few hours later, he was awoken by the incoming tide. His body ached from head to toe, but he forced himself to his feet, swaying alarmingly. Not far away, Ana was lying face down in the sand, and began walking slowly along the length of the beach towards her.

She awoke immediately, but it was several minutes before she could stand steadily. Together, they headed wordlessly towards the twinkling lanterns of the nearby town.

Teague had once told him that fate and time play games of treachery and trickery that man would never truly decipher. A week ago, Jack Sparrow had not assimilated the wisdom behind the words.

Had he done so, he would still have a ship, a heading, and Ky Ling.

* * *

**A/N: **Quién nunca se equivoca nada aprende = he who makes no mistakes learns nothing.

Yes, I deserve to walk the plank. Seven weeks? Oh my goodness, I didn't think I'd be _this _busy at university. I promise to update more often now that exams are over and my muse has decided to crawl out of hibernation.

Thank you for not marooning me, dear readers. I'd like to quickly thank all my reviewers for their support and advice, and add a special thank you to Damsel, Fleet and Nytd for their encouragement and motivation. :)

If I've severely mangled any Spanish, please let me know, and I'll fix it. I've really missed writing over the last few weeks, and I wish I'd sorted out my time management skills sooner. What can I say? '_Quién nunca se equivoca nada aprende_.'


	19. The Moth: And Back Again

**Disclaimer:** Disney owns PotC.  
**A/N:** If anyone wants to recap chapters 1 to 17, please visit the links at the top of chapter 18. :)

* * *

**The Moth (5): And Back Again**

Jack snapped out of his reminiscence. Ana had neither shared the events that led to Captain Alexander Gomez's injury, nor had Jack pressed the matter since the night of their escape, almost fifteen years ago. Having known her for over a decade, he knew that under the temperamental visage, there was an anxious and insecure girl. There must have been a reason for her actions.

When the sky was suffused with the pink shades of dawn, he swung his feet over the edge of the rope bed and stood up. The earth seemed to tilt a little, making him sway precariously. Having spent a fortnight in Nassau, he had become accustomed to lying in the porch of Ana's house, churning plans and drawing scenarios of journeys he would undertake upon the _Pearl_'sreturn.

Absentmindedly, he began pulling on his boots. Sure, he had the charts, but the shapes and characters did not express anything more than they did a month ago. He'd spent hours at a time searching for a riddle, a phrase; but the Oriental colours blended into unidentifiable figures, and the signs and marks did not speak a language he understood. Only once had he reformed the combination that had fuelled their escape from the Locker, but never again. The patterns were ever-changing.

Jack, lost in thought, did not notice Ana until she was standing a metre away from him, doubled over, hands on knees, and struggling to catch her breath.

"Jack!"

"Ah! I was hoping to be graced by your presence. I have something to ask."

Still breathing raggedly, she held up a palm, and seated herself on the rope bed. It was obvious she was attempting to speak, but Jack carried on anyway. "How exactly did Gomez merit his injury?"

She looked up at him, not angrily but somewhat uneasily.

"Which one?" she asked.

"Well I ruddy well know why the first mate was battered, don't I? I'm talking about the Captain."

"Oh." She bent over, and began removing her boots. "You haven't heard? The first mate didn't survive."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. So she'd managed to _kill _the man.

"How's that?"

"Must've been blood loss or something."

"It highly doubt it. I examined his wound myself in the brig; it wasn't fatal. Unless the crew failed to reach him for over an hour, he should have survived."

"You had the bloody keys, didn't you? By the time they got to him, he'd slipped into irreversible unconsciousness. Died three days later."

Jack absentmindedly tugged the beads in his braided beard. An plausible explanation, but... "How do you know this?"

"He came in search of me; Captain Gomez. Tracked me down, right here, when the _Pearl _left."

Ah. So _this _was why her stay in Nassau had been less than friendly. It was understandable, of course, that the Gomez brothers would come searching for them; and while Jack had taken advantage of the vastness of the sea to avoid them, Ana had walked straight into their arms. Or clutches, rather.

"They... they took my uncle," she added in a small voice. Jack frowned. Ana's uncle, a practising surgeon in Nassau, was not related to her by blood, but treated her as a daughter nonetheless. It was neither easy winning Jack's trust, nor his respect; but this man, as a result of past interaction, was one of the few that Jack looked up to.

"What?" asked Jack, failing to catch on. "Two weeks ago, you told me he moved away to India!"

Ana, who had been breathless minutes ago, now seemed to have stopped breathing completely. After a long moment, she sighed and dragged a palm over her eyes. Jack raised his eyebrows in a mixture of scepticism and expectancy.

"News of my return to Nassau fell upon the captain's ears almost a year after my arrival. They say he came in broad daylight – not even the night – straight here. At the time, I was visiting Uncle as I did every day, but it didn't take long for him to trail. Uncle forced me to flee through the back door, and refused to disclose information to Gomez's men; so they took him as hostage, knowing I'd follow."

Jack kept his face emotionless, but Ana's visage was changing; her voice became desperate, a cross between vulnerability and anger."But how could I, Jack? Without a ship, without a direction, without a – a plan? I had no means of reaching the man. It was as though I'd been cornered, fair and square, and I could do _nothing _about it. I've failed, haven't I?" She turned to watch his reactions. He could see the harbinger of tears lining her lower lashes. He shook his head once.

"Have you heard from Dr. Lewis?"

"No."

Jack closed his eyes momentarily, swallowing back the... _guilt?_ Slowly, he seated himself next to Ana.

"You know, Ana, years ago, someone told me that you meet fate on the road you take to avoid it," said Jack. He cast her a sidelong glance. "And it's true."

An almost inaudible sniffle preceded the sad smile that flickered over her lips. "Teague?"

Jack nodded. "Proverb."

Assimilating his words, they sat through a silent set of minutes.

"Ana, you still haven't told me why Captain Gomez was unconscious when I entered the cabin."

She met his eyes. This time, there was no pause; her reply was instant. "He knew you weren't Jacob. Right from the moment he saw you. From the time he took me to his cabin."

Jack narrowed his eyes in confusion.

She continued, "It was a trap. When you went down to collect the keys, he cautioned two of his men, but made sure they didn't take any action. He told them to allow you into the cabin without disclosing the fact that they were aware of your identity. He had them search the ship for the real first mate too."

"If he knew I was in disguise, why didn't he shoot me when he had the chance?"

"You had information, he said."

Jack could only stare at her mutely. So this is why no one stopped him. It wasn't just _luck_; it was a devised plan that could have caused much chaos. Their seemingly brash actions may have rescued them fourteen years ago, but only now were the consequences becoming apparent. He wondered where Gomez was; where Ana's Uncle Lewis was, whether he was alive at all.

Jack exhaled heavily, striving to shake off the questions.

"At least we escaped," she sighed.

"Of course we did," exclaimed Jack, frantically determined to lighten the mood. He was never good with crying women. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

It elicited a half-laugh, and he sighed, relieved.

"Oh and, by the way, darling, what was that you were oh so eager to share earlier?" he asked, suddenly remembering her attempts to speak through uneven breaths a few minutes ago.

Ana's eyes lit up suddenly, twinkling as though she'd discovered a valuable secret, a smirk sliding smoothly over her lips. Jack knew it before she said it.

"She's here, the _Pearl_."

* * *

"Remember, Captain, it's often easier to disadvantage your opponent, rather than attempting to make all your attacks lethal. That way, you'll save energy, and buy yourself time. Here." Jin Hai brought his fingers just beneath his earlobes. Elizabeth mirrored his actions. "A particularly vulnerable point; one that the opponent often forgets to defend – make sure you don't make the same mistake. A punch here is likely to divert his attention, and leave his ears ringing. You needn't dislocate the jaw; it takes too much energy. Remember, we're only buying enough time to make sure it is worthwhile to implement the fatal attack."

Elizabeth nodded, frowning.

"Alternately, you can distract by a sharp kick to this muscle here," continued Jin Hai, gesturing a point just above the ankle. "Like so." He gently tapped Elizabeth's. "Or you may employ any other distracting technique. Just remember, we're _distracting _first, then attacking."

"That'll be the fourth time you repeated that," Elizabeth murmured. Their practice sessions seemed to lengthen every day. Her muscles would tire an hour or two later, but her mind never seemed to fatigue; it was like an addiction, a hunger for knowledge that was amplified with time.

Jin Hai admitted that she was making fast progress, especially for someone who trained only– _'only, he says!'_ – three hours a day. Of course, he was quite unaware of Elizabeth taking every opportunity to practice in the confinement of her cabin.

"Alright, let's try. Flat side of the blades, as usual."

Elizabeth sat cross-legged on the floor as one of Sao Feng's female attendants nimbly tied her golden hair into a thick plait. Elizabeth was grateful: it was barely possible for her to lift her arms over her head after the lesson, let alone arrange her hair in a presentable manner.

Across the room, Tai Huang and Jin Hai towered over the table that was draped with charts and maps. They spoke to each other in Mandarin, gesturing points on the map.

"Captain," called Tia Huang. Elizabeth looked up. "It seems we will have to make port before Madagascar. We're a slight low on essentials. It's not easy keeping our men happy _and_ feeding the _enemy_ crew." Elizabeth noticed a slight edge to his voice.

"Those who've sworn their loyalty and opted to join our crew will naturally receive the same treatment as our previous members. As for the remaining men, we cannot let them die in the brig: it'll make an awful mess. We can't maroon all of them on one island. Two heads are better than one; they'll escape. And I'm not barbaric enough to condemn them all to death for their captain's actions. It is obvious they were not happy in his command," she replied.

"I did not mean to offend."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "What is it you say about making port?" She flinched as she felt the girl coiled the braid and secure it tightly into a bun. Instinctively, Elizabeth reached up to run her fingers over the finished piece, and inclined her head slightly to thank the girl. The girl bowed, and left wordlessly.

"We may have to stop at Table Bay, after all," said Jin Hai.

Elizabeth rose agilely, and reached the table.

"There isn't a port for miles. It'll have to be Cape Town. I know a man living near the smaller harbour. He may be able to help us negotiate a good price. We don't need ammunition, of course; we have ample from the _Vendaval_. We just need to restock the food and drink, and perhaps mend our sails."

"Will we have time to mend the _Vendaval_'s mizzen and sails?" she asked.

"We'll have to leave as soon as possible," Jin Hai stated at once. "Especially with the Company ships lingering in the area."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, but can everything be achieved in three days?"

"Three days?" He looked at her incredulously. "It'll take longer than that to restore the mast, but perhaps we'll be able to repair the sails."

"I don't see why we should spend time revamping _that _ship now," said Tai Huang.

"Because it's evidently faster. If we manage to get it in good shape, we may be able to reach home sooner. It may be easier to outrun an enemy ship, should we happen to meet one," she pointed out. Both men looked sceptical, but remained mum as Elizabeth's fingers traced over the marks on the map. "Well, alter course. We should be able to reach port in just over three days."

Jin Hai loitered around until Tai Huang left the cabin.

"Captain, there is risk."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

* * *

**A/N: **That'll be the last of the Moth chapter. If you have questions, please do ask. As usual, thank you, Nytd, readers and reviewers. I really appreciate your support. :)


	20. The Pigeon: Pirate or Captain

**Disclaimer: **As usual, I own nothing.

_For Nytd... I do hope I've done his character justice. Thankee, m'dear! :)_

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**The Pigeon: Captain or Pirate?**

_Life is like the bird-catcher who roams in the forests with a smile of friendship but a net of betrayal. Should one indulge in excessive affection for anyone or anything, beware the net of the bird-catcher; for when he casts it with his sweet smile, you will dance into it, and reach the same bitter end as the pigeon who failed to rescue his family because he, too, had followed his wife and children into the hunter's trap, mesmerised by affection. Love is beautiful. Blind love is deadly._

"Aha! After all those years of undying friendship, I was _certain _you would be back for me."

Barbossa responded with a sardonic smile and a brief incline of his head, watching Jack saunter shamelessly up the gangplank, Anamaria following closely behind. "I came lookin' fer somethin' a lot more imperative than a thievin' seadog, the last time Ithought."

"Evidently it's been a while since you did _that_, mate."

"Yer the one to talk," Barbossa barked, directing an accusing finger at Jack. "Thought ye'd learnt yer lesson 'bout makin' enemies of yer acquaintances through infantile acts like these."

"Enemies of your _friends_, y'say?" Jack asked with raised eyebrows.

"Didn' say friends!"

"Did too!" Jack retorted promptly, eyes scanning the _Pearl_'s deck fleetingly before returning to Barbossa. "Besides, you took my ship!"

"What?" Barbossa exclaimed, advancing, hands on hips. "Jack Sparrow, if it weren't fer me, this ship would've found the Locker fer the third time; and ye'd have yer pea-sized skull and the whale-sized hole in the hull to thank fer–"

Frowning, Jack resumed scouring the panorama hungrily. The damage had indeed been repaired, the ship restocked, and they seemed to have taken on a few crewmembers to replace those that had fallen during the battle. As his eyes reached the quarterdeck, he leaned closer momentarily to confirm that the two figures arguing there were the redcoats he'd met in Port Royal. With a twitch of his nose, he looked past them, skimming over the familiar faces: Cotton and his screeching bird outside the captain's cabin, Marty and Pintel at the helm, Ragetti in the crow's nest, and the monkey in the rigging... '_but where is–_?'

"Below deck," Barbossa replied with a roll of his eyes. Jack started a little, wondering if he'd spoken aloud.

"What?"

"Yer _faithful _friend is below deck. By the Powers, if ye can't even _listen _to what I'm saying, I fail t'see why ye should be on me ship 'tall."

"Funny; the only thing _I_ fail to see is the reason I should be listenin' to see a scraggly old man rambling away on _my _ship, especially if the said scraggly old man has committed mutiny, not once, not twice, but _three_ bloody times!"

"Yer wastin' me time, Sparrow," snarled Barbossa. "Where be the charts?"

"Safe." _Just like I promised._

"Of course. Now since we're on agreein' terms, ye best hand 'em over."

Jack snorted. "I will not be asked, ordered or threatened to do anything against my will on my ship."

A shrewd light suddenly gleamed in Barbossa's eyes, naturally causing Jack's smile to falter.

"As I recall," Barbossa continued slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. "He who has the charts is –"

"_Chartman?_" an uncertain voice asked over Jack's shoulder.

"Right you are, Master Pintel."

Jack whisked around to narrow his eyes at the stout man who shrugged and smiled apologetically. Nevertheless, Jack lifted his chin and stared defiantly and pointedly away from both men, perfectly poised in retort: "Technically–"

"Sail ho!" Ragetti's howl floated down to the deck. Gibbs barged through the hatch from below deck, yelling orders the crew didn't need. It had become a knee-jerk reaction now; the gangplank was withdrawn, the anchor retracted and the sails luffed, for there were white sails looming in the distance.

"Cap'ns," Gibbs looked from one to the other. "Orders."

It was all that was needed for both men to grumble irately and hasten towards the helm.

* * *

"God's teeth, Sparrow. Shut up," Barbossa snarled. Jack scratched his neck, and lazily looked over at the charts on the table.

"What? It's a good tune," replied Jack, cheerfully. "Good for thinking." He resumed his incessant humming of the sea shanty that he'd once planned to teach to the whole crew. Actually, he was considering implementing his plans. After all, how could anyone possibly pass up a chance to aggravate a former first mate? As though in reply, Barbossa stared at him petulantly for a few moments before returning to the movable pieces on the chart.

From its current arrangement, it seemed apparent that the Aqua de Vida was located somewhere in Florida, but synchronously on the flipside of the map, the pictures clicked into complex, clearly significant Mandarin characters. Both pirates struggled to decipher the ambiguous shapes sketched in the background, but did not comment.

"Seems there be none but one way," Barbossa pondered more to himself than his companion.

"We just need a translator who'd readily answer our questions."

"Scum in these waters will never translate, the superstitious whoresons. We best make our way to Florida. Unless..." He turned to Jack, and narrowed his eyes in thought. Jack looked back sceptically. "Perhaps, Captain Turner be willing to help us."

"He's between worlds, remember?" Jack asked incredulously. "And I hardly believe the boy knows anything beyond English."

"I'm speakin' of Captain Swann."

"She's not Captain. And she can't speak Mandarin, let alone read it."

"Thanks to ye, she's the bloody _King_. And it barely matters that she can't read Mandarin; her crew can," Barbossa clarified. Jack looked up with a distant frown.

"It is highly unlikely her crew is educated enough to read these characters."

"Ye had 'em translated by a bloomin' _prostitute_, Jack!"

It was only momentary, but clearly visible. Something flickered in the depths of Jack's eyes, before disappearing completely, replaced by the usual arrogance. "You are forgetting these charts once belonged to Sao Feng."

"Well if yer so clever, make a contribution," snapped Barbossa.

Jack pushed himself off his chair, and sauntered towards the bookshelf, adjusting his tricorn hat. He trailed his fingers over the leather-bound books, finally coming to a stop over a thin black spine.

"We find Ching."

* * *

Elizabeth sat on the sandy shore of Cape Town observing the angry purple bruise on her upper arm turn yellow when she pressed her finger down upon it.

"Don't agitate it," Jin Hai's voice came from nearby. Elizabeth ignored him, and continued drawing her fingertips slowly over her skin. It wasn't the first bruise she'd achieved during her lessons, but it _was _the newest; and one she was proud of. Through a series of unsuccessful attempts, she'd finally managed to disarm Jin Hai, implementing a technique she hadn't yet been taught. On impulse, she'd knocked the wooden wall of the ship with her left arm, loudly enough for Jin Hai to respond to what seemed like a knock on the door; and using the moment to her advantage, she'd pinched his wrist and laid the flat side of her blade against his chest.

"Did Tai Huang give an estimate as to how long it'll take to repair the _Vendaval_'s sails?"

"Four days if we want her in a fit state to sail," replied Jin Hai, sitting himself down by her side. "He still is not pleased by your decision. I hope you realise."

"I realise Sao Feng would have done the same to protect his crew."

From the corner of her eye, she saw the end of his lips twitch upwards.

"You're very different from Jack Sparrow, you know, Elizabeth?"

She met his eyes levelly, and slipped a mysterious smile over pursed lips.

"I am unsure, Jin Hai, whether to take that as a compliment or insult."

"Take them," he replied, "As both."

Leaving Elizabeth to digest the words, he raised himself to his feet and turned away, obscuring the sight of the outlying docks. Elizabeth struggled to decipher the meaning behind his statement, and though she did not come to a solution, she refused to ask.

"Should we return to the _Empress_?"

"Once we buy food from the market," she answered, pressing a palm into the sand to hoist herself upright. Jin Hai brought his chin to his right shoulder, and he smiled genuinely, before turning to face her again; a motion that was strangely familiar, and indistinctly alarming.

"Buy?" he laughed, "You have just answered your unasked question, Elizabeth."

"I fail to understand."

Jin Hai fixed her with a knowing stare.

"You'll be a good captain, Elizabeth," he concluded, "but, perhaps, it'll take some effort to be a good pirate."

Elizabeth matched his grin this time.

* * *

**A/N:** Why has this taken me so long to write? Blame Barbossa. I'm not sure how he has turned out, so any feedback will be fantastic. Thanks for reading! :)


	21. The Pigeon: Fire in the Distance

**Disclaimer:** Disney owns PotC.

_Thank you, Nytd! Happy birthday, Mr. Johnny Depp! _\_/

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* * *

**

**The Pigeon (2): Fire in the Distance**

"We really shouldn't become accustomed to these sorts of delicacies, gentlemen," Elizabeth laughed, finishing her share of _potjiekos_ with a final swallow. "We'll have a hard time returning to our hardtack diet tomorrow."

Jin Hai replied with a smirk and a nod, and there was scattered laughter from those who understood English. It was decided that the first night sailing in the Atlantic would be celebrated with a South African meal and wine on the deck of the _Vendaval_ by everyone, except the handful of prisoners that remained in the brig.

"I'll be in my cabin." Rising to her feet gracefully, Elizabeth turned to the aft and felt the wind tickle the skin on the back of her neck. Rubbing her fingertips over her nape, she glanced up to admire the newly fitted sails. Even without its fourth mast, the _Vendaval _was evidently charting through the waters faster than the _Empress_. She diverted her eyes to the quarterdeck where Tai Huang stood, steering the ship, and though he stared pointedly into the distance, Elizabeth knew he had been watching her only moments ago, perhaps with resentment. Despite their prior discussion, Tai Huang believed it was wiser to sail aboard the _Empress_, which was instead being towed.

Casting a final look across the deck, Elizabeth marched through the double doors and into her cabin.

It was only a few minutes before Jin Hai stumbled through the same double doors, beckoning her back outside. She followed immediately, slipping on her baldric as they climbed the stairs of the quarterdeck, glancing over their shoulders at the twinkling lanterns, not far away.

"Spanish ships, possibly?" asked Elizabeth, bringing the spyglass to her right eye.

"Or worse," replied Tai Huang. He allowed a deliberate pause before elaborating: "The Company."

Elizabeth handed the spyglass slowly to Jin Hai, and bit her lip in thought.

"Extinguish the lamps."

Tai Huang gave her a lopsided grin. "If this is some petty trick you've learnt during your journeys with Jack Sparrow, it's best we employ a more practical plan."

"This has nothing to do with Jack," she snapped back, haughtily. "Just do as I say."

"Do as she says," repeated Jin Hai, taking the helm from Tai Huang, who raised his eyebrows and then walked off shouting orders to the crew. "What's your plan, Captain? There are too many of them to elude. We should sail towards land and drop anchor for the night–"

"So that they can spot us clearly in broad daylight?" she questioned, "No, Jin Hai. We must move now. If they are Spanish, they're unlikely to fire on another Spanish ship. If they are Company ships or any other repugnant enemy, we need a distraction."

"And what distraction do you have in mind?"

Elizabeth turned to him, recalling the days of her childhood she had spent reading about sailors, pirates and bloody sea battles. The picture of a hellburner painted vividly in her mind.

She glanced over her shoulder at the beautiful _Empress _following silently behind. Jin Hai followed her gaze, and moments later, understanding drew upon his features. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Tai Huang will be furious."

"Tai Huang will only be furious if he survives. I'd rather him survive and be furious, than die in a gory battle against a wrathful fleet."

Elizabeth had expected discrepancy, and she was not disappointed. As Jin Hai translated the plan into Mandarin, a wave of unrest swept over, and fists were raised in rebellion. Tai Huang watched with pursed lips.

"They ask why we cannot send the _Vendaval _as the hellburner instead," said Jin Hai to Elizabeth.

"Because firstly, _this _ship is faster, and secondly, we're in enemy waters. It will be easier to mingle in the crowd with a Spanish ship than a junk ship. This is no time for an argument. We need to act, and fast!"

As Jin Hai returned to answer the question, it was Tai Huang who replied.

"Sao Feng would never have sent his own ship to the Locker."

"Sao Feng would rather have sent his _ship _to the Locker, than his crew."

He observed her for a minute, eyes narrowing in contemplation. Elizabeth stared back obstinately, but inwardly prayed for a concurrence. There was a sceptical twitch of his eyebrows before he raised his voice over Jin Hai's to speak to the crew in Mandarin. Elizabeth held her breath as the man beside her continued to converse, but exhaled thankfully when she saw a smile spread across Jin Hai's face.

Then twirled around, she doused the final lamp that shone over her head.

The _Vendaval _continued to float serenely towards the ships. Elizabeth placed a hand on Tai Huang's shoulder as he secured the lines joining the _Vendaval_'s quarterdeck rail to the _Empress_'s fore. He met her gaze levelly.

"Perhaps Sao Feng _was _thinking straight when he made you captain."

"You needn't do this, Tai Huang," replied Elizabeth, "We only need to shoot fire arrows."

"It won't be enough. Leave it to me, Captain. If things go wrong, I would rather die on my home ship so you can take the rest of the crew to Singapore safely."

"A little too much nobility for a pirate, don't you think?" jested Elizabeth. He matched her grin. The smile faded from her face. "Nothing will go wrong. You're a good man."

Tai Huang bowed low, and proceeded to climb across to the _Empress_.

"Thank you," said Elizabeth.

Hurrying back to Jin Hai's side, she gave orders to sail south-east, farther away from land. She constantly looked over her shoulder, hoping to pinpoint Tai Huang in the engulfing darkness, but no sign came for several minutes, until suddenly, a flame shone at the bottom of the main sail. Seconds later, another spark came, igniting the base of the jib.

Elizabeth sprinted back to the quarterdeck rail, and grasped it tightly. By the time she had spotted Tai Huang, he was already halfway across the line. She signalled Jin Hai, who in turn informed the crew. As the fire spread from the jib to the fore staysail, Elizabeth noticed that the sails were torn.

"Elizabeth!" a voice bellowed. Elizabeth's eyes instantly diverted to Tai Huang. "Ready the fire arrows!"

Without a second thought, she reached the helm, and communicated the order. Then running back to the rail, she helped Tai Huang onto the deck. He cocked his pistol, and shot free one of the lines linking the ships. Elizabeth staggered momentarily, remembering the final moments of James' life, but regained composure swiftly, and began imitating Tai Huang's actions. He reached for the dagger in her belt and started hacking away at a third line.

"Arrows, Captain. Where are the arrows?" he asked over his shoulder, "There is gunpowder on the _Empress_' deck."

Men stormed up the stairs and came to stand by her side. Tai Huang made a gesture, and the lit arrows left the hands of their bearers and charted across to the _Empress _like falling stars. There was an instantaneous flare as some of the arrows met the deck, causing the gunpowder to ignite. The _Empress _was on fire.

"Jin Hai! More speed!" barked Tai Huang. "We need to get as far as possible before it reaches the powder magazine, or the explosion could cause much damage."

Already, the twinkling ships seemed to be closing the distance between them.

"I'm sorry you have to watch this, Tai Huang."

"It's a small price to pay. They say in Singapore that it may take years to find a thousand followers, but it will take an eternity to find a devoted leader."

* * *

**A/N: **A fire ship was a ship deliberately set on fire and steered or allowed to drift into an enemy fleet to create panic or break formation. A hellburner is a variation of such a ship, intended to cause damage by blowing up in close proximity to enemy ships. Says good ol' Wikipedia.


	22. The Serpent: Welsh Ramblings

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

* * *

**The Serpent (1): Welsh Ramblings**

_Like men, not all serpents deserve the label of wickedness and malice. Be the serpent who effortlessly enters the home built by others and prospers happily, contently. A man needs but patience and two ears, to listen and to wait, for it is not incorrect to be wily in a life where the path is ever misty and forever unclear. Be the serpent._

In the afternoon sun, a few minutes from Cape Town, Jack scanned the concealed harbour for enemy vessels. Halfway across the row of ships tied up at the dock, his spyglass came to an abrupt halt, and creases formed between his eyebrows. He squinted, took away the eyepiece to stare at the prominent furled red-silk sails; then, pressed the instrument back to his eye to confirm his suspicion.

"See a free spot, C'pn?"

Gibbs followed Jack's gaze, and made a futile attempt at recognising the ship with bare eyes. Still staring pensively into the distance, Jack passed him the spyglass.

"Why, Jack!" exclaimed Gibbs, his eye glued to the lens. "It's her!"

Jack gave him a warning look, inclining his head briefly towards the helm, where Barbossa stood. Then turning to face him fully, he added, "Mister Gibbs, we are to keep this to ourselves, and dock as far away from her as possible; is that clear?"

"But Jack! Now that we've found her, there's no _need _to sail across seven seas to _China_!"

"Precisely."

Jack turned, heading towards the main deck. Moments later, Gibbs rolled his eyes, and followed him, murmuring a diffused 'aye'.

Mistress Ching's flagship continued to float serenely at the secreted harbour.

* * *

Apart from the aroma of sea and alcohol, the sound of clanking tankards and brash talk filled the pub's atmosphere. The place could easily be compared to a miniature version of the Brethren meeting, what with pirates speaking various languages and haggling over insignificant matters, but of course, the tiny _Rock of the Siren _in Cape Town was no comparison to the Great Cove itself.

With the location of the Cove betrayed, Jack sometimes wondered whether the 'King' was still there. He wouldn't be surprised if she was. He was never able to decide whether her headstrong nature impressed him, irritated him, or worse, worried him. She was captain, sure, but to her, the world was a sphere, a place without imperfections. Somewhere in her, Jack had always seen a childlike hunger for adventure, an innocent determination, but now she was married, and perhaps with child.

Jack had known many men who wished to settle down with a family; but the sea was a dangerous mistress; once bound to her, her envy and wrath would not see another woman sharing that which belonged to her. Many sailors were lured back within months, some never returning home. Only a few escaped her embrace, staying loyal to their wives, never venturing into uncharted waters. But Elizabeth was a woman. Would she venture now that she was bound to a man? Jack snorted. Widow for ten years, a wife for a day. They say immortality comes with a price, but she was no more immortal than he was.

He leaned back, pushing the two front legs of the chair off the floor. His head came to rest lightly against the wooden wall of the inn, and his hat tipped forward, snug over his eyes.

'I, Elizabeth Swann, take you, William Turner, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.'

_Until death do us part_...

"Mr. Sparrow, sir," a boy's voice called.

A startled Jack brought all four legs of the chair back to the floor, and tipped his hat upwards to see the small figure standing in front of him.

"Mr. Sparrow, sir –"

"Captain Sparrow, if you please, lad."

"Yes, pardon me, Captain. Mistress Ching says she'll be visitin' shortly," whispered the boy. He poured a fresh bout of rum into Jack's tankard, all the while stealing glances across the room. "She ain't in the mood for talking, sir."

"Is she ever..." mumbled Jack, digging his pocket for a gold coin. "Why the particularly foul mood today, then, d'you think?"

"No idea, sir," replied the boy with a shrug of his shoulder, "I need t'be goin' now. Need t'see to the others."

"Well, run along, lad."

The boy pocketed the coin, and disappeared into the crowd.

"Y'know, mate," a heavily accented voice spoke loudly, inches from Jack's ear, "she's only sour grapes because her ship was blown to more bits than fish in the sea."

Jack started for the second time in five minutes as a tankard slammed onto the table surface, and a blond sailor slipped into the chair opposite him, uninvited. Jack placed a palm over his drink, and surveyed the stranger uncertainly.

The man had barely sat down when he made to stand up again, swaying precariously.

"Well, Captain, I really must be off!" he announced drunkenly before collapsing back onto the chair. He blinked rapidly, as though trying to clear his vision, and Jack continued to watch him, nonchalantly tugging the beads in his beard in an attempt to recall if he was meant to recognise the man. No memory flashed, no bell rang.

"Say, what's your name, laddie?"

"Why, Dafydd, of course! As in the Dafydd Mills in the night-fishing business."

Jack rose his eyebrows. "Night-fishing?"

"As in fishing at night."

"I'd never have guessed."

"Thought not! The locals don't either– never understand why Nick and I go fishing at night, but them lot don't got no brains, do they? Actually, that's why we call Nick 'Nick'. His real name is Nianzu, but apparently, when pea-brained fools pronounce it, it translates into 'sticky servant' rather than 'remembering ancestors', and _that_'swhy we call him Nick. Now Nick and I wait in the dead of the night for all the good fishies to swim into our nets, and we get a good price for them the next morning. The locals warn us, of course, but we ain't no superstitious fools to believe in myths of waterdragons and krakens what are said to roam the sea at night!"

Jack snorted. "So her ship was attacked, eh?"

"Oh yes, exploded, it did. Saw it meself!" he hiccoughed. "Bet she was a beauty before –"

"Who, Ching?"

"Good Lord, no! I ain't _that _drunk! I mean the ship. Oriental, fine-looking. Shame there wasn't much of her left the next morning." He rested his chin on his palm.

"I see–"

But the man refused to talk anymore. His head lolled off his palm and crashed against the table, and his body slipped off the chair and onto the ground, unconscious. Jack raised his eyebrows, and with a twitch of his nose, calmly brought his drink to his lips and sipped indifferently.

It was a few minutes before Ching walked through the door. Jack sprang up, and conjured an elaborated bow despite the fact that her features were almost arranged in a way to communicate disgust.

"Captain, if you'd care to take a seat." Jack's white-gold smile did not soften her expressions, but she slipped gracefully into the chair.

"So, Jack Sparrow. What brings you here?"

"Nothing in particular, my lady. Your ship was sighted early this day by the _Pearl, _and it would be inappropriate to pass without greeting a fellow Pirate Lord docked at the same port."

Ching raised an eyebrow, and pursed her lips.

"Oh, and before I forget–" Jack drew a small pouch from within his pocket, and presented it to her. "If I don't give this to you, she'd probably kill me."

Ching spoke orders to have the contents checked.

"Meaning the Pirate _King_," Jack emphasised, "It's her token of... _gratitude_, or more of a symbol of alliance."

He pointed to the purple ring on his third finger, and watched the suspicion fade significantly from her expressions. He breathed an inward sigh of relief. Of course, the 'token' was a mere ruby ring he had picked up from the _Pearl_'s brig that afternoon. He signalled one of the barmaids for another bottle of rum, and she scurried over instantly to fill their tankards to the brim.

"Strange to see a Sparrow delivering messages."

"I am but a humble sailor."

"Of course," she replied, dryly. "Anything else?"

"In fact, there is. In return, she wishes for your concordance," he said, examining his fingernails. "And, on another trivial matter, she requires a man to translate some scriptures, a poem of a sort, apparently. Her crew are reluctant to accept her, and so there is discrepancy."

"Where is she?"

Jack had completely overlooked the question.

"At the Cove," he blurted without a thought. He paused, and studied her expressions. "So what brings _you _here?"

"It is one thing to reveal your plans to a friend, and another to reveal them to an acquaintance. The two aren't quite the same. You're a rather unpredictable man, Jack Sparrow. Sao Feng had always told us tales of your treachery, and recent events have only highlighted them; hence, it's difficult to say whether keeping a man like you at arm's reach is a wise decision or a death wish."

"Ah, but you see, Mistress, a predictable enemy would be easy to destroy, and a predictable friend, even easier. It's only a way of life to remain unpredictable. After all, life is unpredictable, and how are we to live it, without being a little dishonest, ourselves? "

There was a curve of lips which made her look even more unappealing.

"Sao Feng spoke of your wit, too."

"Old friends. Good man, even if he were after breaking my back."

"It's best we refrain from speaking ill of those who fell during the battle, Jack Sparrow."

"Speaking of battles, I'm sorry to hear about your ship."

"Sorry?" she asked, tweaking an eyebrow. "The _Ningpo _is safely tied at the docks."

Jack scrunched his face. "I meant your _other _ship."

"The _Ningpo _is the only ship afloat in these waters."

"Liar!" a groan came from below the table. Jack was quick in lifting his drink off the surface, but the remaining tankards clanked and upturned as the man's head collided forcefully onto the underside of the table. He emerged, clasping the table with one hand and Jack's knee with the other for support. "Saw your ship burn meself. Beautiful junk, she was; almost as fancy as my _Isabella_."

Ching's men waited for orders, but she simply took Jack's cup from his hand, and splashed the remains of his drink onto Dafydd's face. He stood rather still, his dark brown hair plastered across his forehead. Then, throwing back his head, he began laughing manically. Jack's eyes moved between the man and Ching, slowly and lazily.

"Quite a waste o–"

Dafydd's hysteria drew quite some attention, including that of the bartender, who arrived by their side with two other men.

"Sorry, C'pns. He's obviously 'ad enough for t'night. I'll see him taken away," he said. Drawing back a clenched fist, he collided his knuckles against Dafydd's cheek, leaving the latter unconscious on the floor, once more. The burly men lifted him, and carried him away, towards a stairway behind bar. Everyone except Ching watched. When Dafydd was out of sight, the bartender turned to face them once again.

"I do beg your pardon for intrudin', but _his_ version of the tale isn't uncommon amongst sea-goers. It's been discussed over and over, it has. An oriental ship _was _set aflame a fortnight ago. We thought t'was the Company, but the next morning, there seemed to be some sorta Navy investigation so it definitely wasn't them. Probably the Spanish, we think."

"The _Ningpo _is the only ship afloat in these waters," Ching repeated.

"And it was neither a Company ship, nor a merchant," mused Jack.

The tips of his fingers were prickling, and despite the warmth, the hair on the back of his neck stood almost eerily. A junk ship that was neither Ching's nor the Company's left only one option. He kept his features blank, and turned back to the bartender.

"Well – not that it's any of our concern, really – but who d'you reckon?" he asked.

"It's not clear, but Dafydd, here, is certain he saw a Spanish ship sailing _away_ from the mess. Now, what was that name?" pondered the barman. He squinted into the distance, stroking his white beard in thought. "The _Vendaval._"

* * *

**A/N: **For those who are unfamiliar with the pronunciation of Welsh names, Dafydd is pronounced as 'Daavith'- the Welsh version of David.

Thanks Nytd! :)


	23. The Spider: In Chests and Cabinets

**Disclaimer:** Disney owns PotC.  
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The Spider (1): In Chests and Cabinets

_The spider draws itself to the centre of its completed web, and awaits that which fate delivers in its path. Wander gratefully on the path of life, for that which is rightfully yours, shall return to you, willingly or no. It's a game of fate, a matter of time._

After much deliberation, Jack decided it was time to scram.

"Well –"

"You said she was at the Cove," Ching stated from her seat. Jack crumpled his nose, and held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. It was obvious that Ching's sidemen did not require a translation to interpret their captain's displeasure of the current situation – their hands were already resting on the pommels of their swords.

"She _was _when I last saw her."

"So I guess she no longer requires my concordance or that translator, now that she's _dead_," she sneered.

"Apparently so!" There was a pause where Jack surveyed his rings and fingernails with great interest, hoping with all his might that Ching was as blind as they depicted in conversations over cups of rum. She seemed to be looking at him, yet not looking at him at all, and for a moment Jack believed the time to slip away was finally upon him. Then suddenly, she spoke again, evidently reading through him.

"Sit down, Jack Sparrow."

"I really m–"

"I insist."

"But–"

"The lady _insists, _Jack; where be yer manners?" A drawl came from behind Ching's companions, and it was shortly accompanied by its owner who, too, had been waiting for the 'opportune moment'. _Even more reason to scram. _Jack's eyes widened, closed and opened again in a futile attempt to wake up from a bad dream, but the acknowledgement of Barbossa's sly grin instinctively plastered on Jack's features the well-practised nonchalant expression. "As fer the _Pearl_, ye can trust me t'keep her afloat, at the least. And in any case, there be no doubt that she'd be better off without ye."

"Captain Barbossa," addressed Ching, curtly inclining her head in his direction.

"Mistress Ching."

"It seems," she informed, "our newly elected King has fallen prey to a Spaniard."

"So I've heard. Fergive me, Cap'n, fer eavesdroppin', but my fellow shipmate does make his absence quite prominent, and he's sorely missed more often than not," said Barbossa, his features twisting in disgust. "It seems it is essential to watch over this one."

"Well then, now that Hector's excellent babysitting skills have been revealed, he really ought t'be practicing them on his grandchildren rather than a fully grown man," Jack jeered back.

"So it seems she was last seen at the Cove," said Ching, loudly over their childish remarks.

"The Cove?" Barbossa exclaimed, hitching a menacing eyebrow. "Sure, if Jack, here, s'been makin' any detours while he was at the helm, and I was less aware."

Ching looked at Jack directly this time as if her eyesight had impulsively cleared. Jack beamed, smiling cordially, and was at the verge of denying all accusations when Barbossa spoke again.

"Though, of course, it _is _more than likely that she was taken back to the Cove by the Keeper," he said. It was Jack's turn to raise an eyebrow, albeit more bemusedly. "A fine lass like her, it's a shame t'hear of her death."

"Or capture..."

"Or death," repeated Barbossa.

"She won't _die_ so easily," countered Jack with a roll of his eyes. "You forget who her husband is."

"Everyone is bound by a law, Jack Sparrow, even in the Other world," said Ching. There was something in the tone of her voice that unnerved him, and he was mum. She smiled triumphantly. "Now. If there's any translation that _you _want done, Sparrow, ask now. I don't like liars, but the ruby ring is a fair price."

"I hardly believe Sparrow's in any position t'make deals, Mistress Ching. He really ought t'have a chat with his _crew_," sneered Barbossa, emphasising the final word with a tilt of his head, clearly signalling Jack to acknowledge a fuming Anamaria standing near the door, hands on hips.

* * *

Elizabeth's dreams were uneasy. A setting sun, a rising moon, and a storm under an eclipse. She dreamt of her younger days, of a younger Will and a younger James, her father's last words being whispered like a gust of terrible wind seeping through cracked rims of a closed window. The floorboards creaked, a crab scuttled into the sand, and a magnificent ship floated away towards the horizon, menacing with matt black sails.

_For what we want most..._

"Captain." A warm whisper inches from her ear, followed by a hand on her shoulder, attempting to shake her awake. She flinched unexpectedly, a bruise on her upper arm stinging into existence, and murmured as she fended off the hand clenching her shoulder. She recognised the voice, but was too weary to identify its owner.

_...there is a cost that must be paid in the end. _

She awoke, and shuddered, her head spinning as the image of a deserted pub floated into view, lit only by the remnants of dying lanterns aglow in the distance. Whether she had fallen asleep from fatigue or intoxication, she did not know, but she knew that Mistress Ching had failed to arrive for their scheduled meeting that evening. The _Fair Lady _of Cape Town was but a small inn in the suburbs, ten miles from the main docks and nearer to the pirate port, but nonetheless, it had been occupied by locals and merchants. She wondered why it had been abruptly devoid of its population, but the thought had barely formed when there came the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, shockingly close.

Elizabeth would have fallen out of her chair for sure if it weren't for the fingers that closed around her upper arm again, and dragged her deeper into the corner. A pounding headache awoke within the depths of her brain, but she fought the nausea when she sensed with a hint of fear the warmth of someone standing behind her.

She did not respond immediately; she let the second pass, then retrieved a dagger from her belt, and twirled in her captor's grip to place it firmly against his throat. The figure, however, far from intimidated, whispered, "Elizabeth."

Jin Hai's features were barely visible in the darkness. Returning the dagger to its original position, she made to step away, but he tightened his grip, driving her further into his chest. Over her shoulder, he peered across the room.

"What's happened?" she asked.

"There's a raid," he whispered, his eyes transfixed on the entrance. Moments later, the door was thrown open, revealing a line of redcoats that immediately headed upstairs. Elizabeth buried her face in his coat, standing as still as possible, which was an effort considering the strange sickness that was rising in her throat and making her dizzy. Once their thundering boots were on the level above, Jin Hai pulled her away from himself, and she swayed a little from the sudden loss of support.

"This way," she heard him saying.

He began stepping lightly towards the door, and Elizabeth followed wordlessly, too weary and too preoccupied with the throbbing in her head to formulate a plan herself. They had barely reached the shadows of the bar area, when there came the sound of feet on the upper stairs, so loud that it made the bottles and tankards tremble. Elizabeth searched for Jin Hai's signal, but he was invisible, save the whites of his eyes which shone in the darkness, patient and wary. He clasped her hand, and drew her towards the bar. There, they squatted, their backs pressed firmly against the cabinets behind them.

Just a few metres away, two redcoats led two shackled men down the stairs and out of the door. From the noise, it was evident there were more upstairs, but they were higher up, perhaps on the second landing.

"What was it that you said just now... about a _cost_?" mumbled Elizabeth, disorientated by the series of events. She clasped her head in her hands.

"Cost?" he questioned, baffled. "Now is not the time."

_"For what we want most, there is a cost that must be paid at the end_," she recited, still dazed. The words felt strange on her lips, and she knew immediately that it was not Jin Hai who had said them. "Nothing..."

She felt a cool palm on her forehead, and looked up to see him watching her calmly. "Headache?"

"Would probably hurt less if you took my head off."

"Remove your boot, pinch your smallest toe."

"And that will help?"

"It will," he assured. Then squinting abruptly, he turned around, and began looking through the cabinets until he found one which contained nothing but a few sacks and bottles. He tossed them aside impatiently, and removed the planks that served as shelves within the cabinet. Knowing his intention, Elizabeth stepped inside, and he squeezed in after her, closing the door soundlessly.

It was cramped for sure, and definitely not comfortable. Had they been any fleshier, they would barely have been able to breathe, or even get in.

"You're too fair for your own good, you know, almost radiant in the darkness. They'd spot you sooner than an eagle," he explained, and before Elizabeth could classify the comment as a compliment or complaint, he added, "How's the headache?"

"Better," she whispered. He opened the door just a fraction to allow air into their tiny confinement. The boots sounded even more distant, though there came the occasional shout.

"So I see Ching had a change of plan."

"So it seems," she answered shortly.

"We'll send word tomorrow," he said. There was a pause. "What makes you think she'll know anything about Sparrow?"

"I don't know. She might know if the _Pearl _has been sighted in these waters after we left the Cape a fortnight ago. She arrived two nights after our departure from what I hear."

"He is more than likely to be in the Caribbean, still."

"It's worth a try."

"And why the impulsive need to find Jack Sparrow?"

"I remember my promise, Jin Hai," she said, giving him a sidelong glance. "I will find out all I can about Ky Ling, and if possible, track her down."

Neither of them spoke for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Who have you left in charge on the _Vendaval_?"

"Tai Huang will manage. They've nearly repaired the mast. It was he who suggested I should follow, you know."

It was as though the burning of the _Empress_ had cast some sort of deathly shadow over them. The first signs of morning after the fateful arson brought with them an unwelcoming change of tides and weather, and though they came out of the storm safe and sound, the already damaged mast had uprooted completely, smashing the rail on the port side. They were forced to reverse course, but it was too dangerous to return to the Cape because the news of the _Empress _would surely have reached the Company by then. Instead, they retracted to a small village-town thirty miles south of the main port, and twenty from the secreted pirate port situated before the realm of Table Mountain, the very place they had docked a fortnight ago. The tiny port at Hout Bay was more for small vessels and fishermen than for pirates, and it helped that the _Vendaval _still flew her merchant colours. Locals agreed to be mend the damage within a fortnight, working day and night for a hefty price which Elizabeth paid willingly from her share of the booty.

"How long have you been tailing me?" she asked Jin Hai.

"From the minute you left the ship, Elizabeth," he replied. "Do you really believe it is wise, or safe, to go wandering into an unfamiliar town?"

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, _father_," she teased.

"Oh, but of course," he chuckled dryly.

She, too, chortled at her luck. Jin Hai didn't miss it, and gazed at her questioningly.

"At least our potential captors are _mortal _this time," she murmured. He hitched an eyebrow, and Elizabeth began elaborating in quiet whispers. A small smile stretched across her lips as she recalled hiding in a similar cupboard in Port Royal, albeit by herself, a very long time ago. Miss Swann, she was, the respectable daughter of the governor, beautiful and proud. For once, Elizabeth was content speaking about her past. In fact, the words flowed faster and with more enthusiasm than she had expected, and she acknowledged the need for company that had curled up inside her; the desperate hope of lightening the burden of being a widow, orphan and outlaw, all at once. She talked of her mother, and her father, and of her journey to the Caribbean; how she had rescued Will, and Jack had rescued her, and how the three were indebted to each another but would never truly be square.

When she had finished, she found her whisper a hoarse murmur. Jin Hai seemed to have stopped breathing completely, and it appeared that he was almost oblivious to their physical discomfort. After a long pause, he broke the silence with a slow, gentle whisper.

"So what of the chest now, Elizabeth?"

It was then that Elizabeth's breathing matched Jin Hai's, for she could not breathe at all. There was something in the depths of her brain that was causing her heartbeat to falter and her insides to writhe, and try as she might, she could not stop it. She lifted her head from where it rested on the back of the shelf, and met his eyes fearfully.

Suddenly, it all made sense; the storm, the change of tides, the wrath of the ocean. They had come smoothly from the Caribbean to that Cape with favourable winds and without meeting enemies – save the _Vendaval _– but since their departure from the pirate port of Cape Town, their luck seemed to have flipped, and there could only be one justifiable reason: _He was angry_.

"It..." she croaked. She swallowed in an attempt to wet her dry throat, but instead, she choked, throttled by the realisation that – "It was... on the _Empress_."

It was harder than ever to maintain composure. Elizabeth hoped he could not see her in the darkness, but when she sensed his roughened fingertips on the back of her hand, she realised he had deciphered the silence.

"Is there a way?" she asked after what seemed several long minutes.

"It would make no sense going back, Elizabeth. It's a lost cause."

Somewhere at the back of her mind, she heard Will's voice, what he would have said, and perhaps what he would want her to say: '_It's not if there is but one fool left to fight for it'_. And he would be right, she knew, for a fool she was. Another voice swirled into existence, and she knew it was her doubt, the side of her that faltered her actions and hindered her pace, and lead her farther away from Miss Swann, the proud daughter of a governor. What accountability did she have for the delay? Even as she sat in the cabinet, her mind was at work searching for a good reason, an explanation, an... excuse?

Then came a third voice.

_You will come over to my side, I know it_. No, she would not lie to Will. Yet the guilt was a burden already, and the thought of a rendezvous suddenly frightened her. She had always known Will's love, but never his wrath. Even in his anger, she had sensed his love, the jealousy, but not hatred. Perhaps he would be the same now. He knew already, she was sure, but she knew not if she had the courage to confess. She would think of a way to phrase her reason, yes, and deliver it in the gentlest manner possible; but she knew that if she made the decision, then _he_ would be right, as always: _Peas in a pod_. Jack' voice was clear in her head now, cajoling, smirking, and though she fended it off with a twitch of her head and a scowl, it whispered softly, laughing.

Jin Hai rescued her from the hysteria with a placid nudge, and she became conscious of him watching her, awaiting her response.

"You do know what this means to me," she said finally.

"I do, but I also know that the world will not stop turning, and the seas will quieten, eventually."

Then suddenly, a flame of hope burned within her turbulent mind: "I need to speak to him."

"You know that is impossible."

"It is not," she insisted stubbornly. "We just need to find the right people. We need those navigational charts."

Jack's voice waned, leaving nothing but the ghost of his white-gold smile, waiting.

_It's a matter of time_, she heard him say.


	24. The Spider: A Change in Plan

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**A/N**: I'd just like to clarify that Elizabeth and Jin Hai only know Ky Ling's story until the part where she left Singapore. They don't know anything that happened thereafter. The rest of the story is told by Jack. Thanks, Fleet, for bringing up that. :) And thank you, Nytd, for beta-reading.

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**The Spider (2): A Change in Plan**

Long when the boots of the redcoats had subsided, Elizabeth and Jin Hai emerged from the cabinet, bent over and stiff. Elizabeth found her own boot tossed unceremoniously nearby, and tugged it on before straightening up with an unpleasant clicking of joints. Jin Hai was peering out of a window, no doubt checking for a clear coast.

Soon, they were walking swiftly but cautiously in the shadows of the suburb of Cape Town. A distant church bell rang thrice, signalling three in the morning. Thirty miles north, Elizabeth knew, would be the main docks of Cape Town where under the signature of the Company, men, women and children would be taken back to the Caribbean, no longer free persons, but slaves. She thought of Jack, and how he had earned his brand, a sadness creeping over her.

"Perhaps we should seek Mistress Ching at the other port," suggested Elizabeth, and they both knew she was addressing the secreted pirate port just half an hour away.

"It would not be wise," he replied, leading her into a new alley. "The raid suggests turbulence, and we should not provoke it. Beckett may have fallen, but not the Company. They would be more than happy to see the Pirate King hang."

"Then we have no choice but to return to the _Vendaval, _and send word," she concluded.

The geography was still unfamiliar to her, but it became clearer as they reached a road lined with closed doors of a residential area. She had been here just a few hours ago, finally reaching _The Fair Lady_ after the four hour walk. Behind the row of houses were two more rows, and behind them, a path leading southwards from the main city, along the coast to meet the smaller village where the _Vendaval _was docked.

"How did you get here?" asked Elizabeth.

"The same way you did," he replied, "walked."

"Sly, you are," she snorted in amazement as they edged away from a house with an open door.

"Or you're as deaf as a post," he said, laughing.

"I've noticed it several times, you know," she mused, giving him a sidelong glance. "You always manage to slip away noiselessly. How do you do it?"

"Instinct, I suppose. Or you could call it experience," he said, his voice growing quieter, reticent. "Those desolate hours at the Temple years ago in my childhood taught me valuable lessons. They sharpened my senses, taught me to mimic the birds, whisper like the wind..."

"You will take me there when we reach Singapore, yes?" she asked in a gentle whisper, almost as though she had stepped into his covert thoughts, escaping momentarily to places far, far away.

"If you ask it of me, anything," he replied, quietly.

They walked in silence for many long minutes through the supposedly unending aisle of cottages. From most windows came soft snores, though from some came whispers and sounds which flushed Elizabeth's face, compelling her to take longer strides. It was an otherwise tranquil night, and the glittering stars seemed to be their only companions; yet when they turned a sharp corner, Jin Hai grasped her hand, narrowing his eyes suddenly. Elizabeth tilted her head so she could hear better, and then confirmed the distinguishable tap of hooves on gravel and the noisy movement of an adjoined cart only a street or two away, approaching. Jin Hai produced a maroon scarf, and waved it in front of her, beckoning her to shield her face. She did so wordlessly, and then took his forearm in an attempt to back away into the nearest wall, but met resistance.

"Give me your sword. Hide the dagger."

He placed a palm on her back, edging her to continue walking as normal. She did not question his intentions despite the fact that she was finding it harder than ever to keep from sprinting. The hooves and cart were drawing nearer, every step accelerating Elizabeth's heartbeat until it became a frantic flutter in her throat, a mixture of anticipation and fear. They were closer, much closer, close enough for the driver to see them. Just when she thought they would be overtaken, the hooves began slowing, and came to a complete halt. The shattered tranquillity pieced together for a moment. Without thinking, she brought her chin to her shoulder, and saw in the dim light of a lantern hung on the cart, the rider descending from his position to walk around to the back of the vehicle. Seconds later, he re-emerged, supporting another man who was probably hurt, drunk or asleep. He had barely caught hold of his apparently unconscious companion, when the latter escaped his grasp, and fell promptly to the ground. The driver began mumbling under his breath. Jin Hai, she realised, too, had stopped walking, and had pivoted to squint at the two men.

"Dafydd," the cart rider said to the man on the ground in a stern, accented voice. "Get up. Now."

There was a grumble, followed by more foreign speech. Then before Elizabeth could decide to walk away, Jin Hai spoke out loud, but not in English. There was a pause, and then came a reply in the same tongue.

Jin Hai signalled Elizabeth to stay put as he stepped towards the men, into the lamplight. The hushed talk lasted well over a few minutes, and though she could not see Jin Hai's face, she could tell that they had come to some sort of agreement in Mandarin. Then suddenly, he turned to stare at her directly.

"Amelia," he said, summoning her with a wave of his hand, and when the lamplight bathed her semi-concealed face, she only hoped that she had managed to keep the surprise from her eyes. The man looked at her suspiciously, and asked a few more questions in Mandarin which were answered promptly. Finally, Jin Hai turned to faced her.

"This good man," he said, "is willing to take us to Hout Bay by cart. We shall leave immediately."

"Once I put Dafydd in the house."

Jin Hai nodded, and helped the man haul Dafydd off the floor before returning to Elizabeth's side. They watched him lead Dafydd through the door.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a low whisper.

"Women that roam around at this time of the day are hardly of the respectable sort."

"Who is he, and what has been agreed?"

"A fisherman by the name of Nianzu. He has agreed to take us in exchange of five gold coins."

"Do you believe him?"

"His cart reeks of fish."

"And is he honest?"

"To him, I am a sailor, and you are company requested by my captain, who is _not _the Pirate King."

"How long will it take?"

"About an hour and half, I imagine. We're more weight than the beast is used to."

Their conversation was cut short by the locking of Nianzu's door. Pocketing the key, he gestured them to proceed to the back of the cart. It wasn't a proper horse cart, of course, and nothing as lavish as those that Elizabeth had once sat in. It was tilted slightly, and only partly roofed. Elizabeth maintained eye contact as Nianzu took her hand to help her in. Jin Hai followed, and seated himself with his back to the side planks that served as walls opposite Elizabeth.

"Excuse the baskets," said Nianzu, "I'm hoping to sell some in Hout Bay while I'm there."

"That's no problem," said Elizabeth, "It's very kind of you to allow us, Mr. Nianzu."

"Call me Nick, Miss Amelia," he said automatically, and disappeared around the corner.

"You just called him a sticky servant," Jin Hai explained.

The cart jolted into motion, causing Elizabeth to grope a basket of slimy fish for support. She squirmed visibly, but covered it up, though not fast enough for Jin Hai. He saw, smirked, and caught the sight of her defiantly raised eyebrow before looking away. She rested her elbow on a smaller crate on her left, and brought a palm to her forehead, closing her eyes.

* * *

"You could at least have told us what you were going to do!" Anamaria shrieked, later in the _Pearl_'s cabin. "She's more trouble than she looks, that Ching. Do you really think the crew would be satisfied with her coming in for a share of the final prize?"

"Ana, we have no choice," said Jack, exasperated. "For all we know, we could be sailing in the wrong direction entirely. The sooner we get those ruddy charts translated, the better!"

"We _could_ always sail to Singapore instead!"

"She's dead!"

"You just said you think she's captured!"

"Well if she's captured, there'll be no point in heading towards Singapore, will there? And anyway, last time I looked, _I _was captain of this vessel, therefore _I_ shall decide where this ship goes from here."

She glared at him, and he glared back. The ship rocked gently beneath them. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell rang three times.

"Jack Sparrow, do not forget that the crew that is sailing with you is fully capable of voting a new captain who, coincidentally, is already on board," she said in a venomous hiss.

"Are you threatening me on me own ship?"

"Yes, I am," she snapped, whipping around to storm out of the door, making sure to slam it shut behind her. Jack, too, turned towards his desk, and then realised that Barbossa had taken the charts ashore, as per their agreement – courtesy of Anamaria: Neither were to have both the _Pearl _and the charts at any one time. Fuming, he sat in his chair, attempting to collect his disarranged thoughts. Dawn approached.

It was around five in the morning when Jack began catching snippets of conversations, indicating the crew's return. Amongst them, Ana's high pitched voice was easily recognisable, snapping orders, evidently still irate. Jack wondered if she would implement her threat, though admittedly, he was sure Gibbs wouldn't allow it. Nevertheless, Jack wrenched open the door of the cabin, and charged onto the deck.

"Gibbs!" There was no sign of him. Jack stood, hands on hips until seconds later, Gibbs' voice reached him from above.

"Aye, Cap'n." Gibbs was halfway up the rigging, evidently caught between chasing Barbossa's monkey to retrieve some personal possession, and answering Jack's order. Clearly, it did not take much for him to read Jack's foul mood for he began climbing back down, instantly abandoning his prior endeavour.

"Aye," he repeated, reaching the deck and trotting after Jack, who had diverted his steps back towards the cabin.

"Are you to tell me that you divulged Ching's presence to anyone else on this ship, hence and therefore disobeying my orders completely?" Jack asked. Gibbs wasn't in stride with him until they had reached the cabin door.

"'Course not, sir," said Gibbs.

"With a voice that loud, ye'd wake the dead," came a jeer. Jack halted, and put his head around the cabin door to scowl at Barbossa briefly.

"Oh Hector, _where _you accomplished these sneaky skills, it really is a wonder, but I would appreciate you stay on _your _side of the cabin when you may."

"And _I _would appreciate if ye'd jus' shut yer gob, an' clear off."

Jack sauntered into the cabin anyway, and Gibbs followed, eyes flitting anxiously between the two captains. Barbossa rolled his eyes, picked up the charts he had placed on the desk, and exited the cabin, leaving the door ajar.

"Mr. Gibbs," he called, parading towards the forecastle. "If ye'd care to call fer a crew meeting. I'd like to see all in the cabin in precisely a turn o' the hourglass."

Back in the cabin, Jack hitched a questioning eyebrow at Gibbs, who answered with a flummoxed expression and a shrug of his shoulders. He looked uncertain, but headed out anyway to carry out the order. Jack opened his mouth to utter a witty response, but closed it again, when none came. Eyebrow still elevated, he stared at the open door as though daring it to solve his dilemma: whether to stay rooted in his cabin or to venture out for information. When no reply came, he snorted, marched to the door, and slammed it shut. The windows rattled in their frames.

* * *

**A/N**: Wow, it's been over a year since I began writing this story. I want to thank all of you who've taken the time to share your thoughts on this story. Reviews are the only way I can improve the next chapters. Thanks to those who have added this story to their Story Alerts and their Favourites.

I look forward to your continued support. :)


	25. The Spider: Pandemonium

**Disclaimer: **Any recognisable character belongs to Disney.

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**The Spider (3): Pandemonium**

An hour after their departure from the _Fair Lady_, Elizabeth was awoken by foreign voices to the stink of fish and the jolting of the horse cart. She laid still, her face plastered sleepily against the small crate on her left, content with listening to Jin Hai and Nianzu, and the steady drumming of her heart. Her headache had diminished, but when she swallowed, she felt a tingling, the first sign of a sore throat. From the corner of her eye, she could see the sky suffused with the slightest shade of purple, hinting the crack of dawn.

When finally her neck ached, she sat up, heeding to the numbness on one side of her face, and the prickling sensation on the other. She yawned to escape the discomfort, simultaneously greeting Jin Hai with a nod of her head. He did not pause to reply, but ran the back of his hand briefly over his cheek, clearly indicating her to mimic the action. Lazily, she dragged a palm over the stinging half of her face, and froze.

She was tracing what seemed like patterns. She repeated the action. Something stirred in the depths of her memory. Jin Hai was watching her intently now, though he had not ceased his conversation with Nianzu. Elizabeth closed her eyes, and drew her fingers lightly over her face one final time. Her breath caught. _It can't be_... She inched to her left to look at the crate she had been leaning on, and even in the faint light, she saw a profile that appeared far too familiar. Her hand reached out on its own accord to remove the thin cloth that draped over the object, and her slender fingers explored its surface, running gently but surely over a pattern she had memorised many days ago, alone on a sandy Caribbean shore.

Jin Hai had stopped talking, she realised, and he was staring at the object with equal parts of disbelief and amazement. Elizabeth put her ear to the metal, and listened to the beats emanating from within, calm, as always.

* * *

Ana walked to the gangplank, and stared as far as she could. Ships on either side of them were loading, gearing up to set sail, and in all haste due to some turbulence encountered further south. It made no sense for the _Pearl _to wait longer than it was necessary, but there was no sign of her other captain despite the fact that half a day had passed since his announcement to summon the crew.

"Think I see him," muttered Ana, lifting her chin to better see the conspicuous hat floating through the crowd. "Seems to be dragging someone along."

"Where?" Gibbs asked, reaching her side in two strides. He shielded his eyes from the blazing afternoon sun.

"There!"

Jack couldn't resist peering over his shoulder, and sure enough, a familiar figure was tramping amidst the sailors, accompanied by not one, but _two_ shorter, younger men. It wasn't until the three of them were at the bottom of the gangplank that Jack recognised one of Barbossa's companions as Dafydd, the 'night-fisher' at the _Rock of the Siren _the previous night. The other, Jack could not identify immediately, but from his Southeast Asian features, it was obvious that this would be the man who would decipher the characters on the charts. Jack squinted at him sceptically as Barbossa beckoned the duo to proceed onto the deck.

"Good morning, Miss," Dafydd said to Ana with a tip of his hat, and then turned to Gibbs, extending a hand in greeting. "And good sir."

Gibbs shook his hand appraisingly, and threw an uncertain look towards Jack, who continued surveying the two visitors with mounting suspicion. Dafydd followed Gibbs' gaze, and met Jack's eyes with a cordial smile. Jack braced himself for another bout of Welsh prolix, but it never came, despite the fact that Dafydd had taken a deep breath in, and poised to charge into introduction.

"Mr. Gibbs," Barbossa announced peremptorily, "we are to weigh anchor by sundown. Make haste. Y'could say we have a heading." He gave Jack him a complacent smile, unmistakably savouring the sight of a confounded Jack.

Gibbs, being more than eager to avoid a rampant argument, hollered to those on deck before descending through the hatch to spread the news down below. Voices answered, scuffling ensued, and the _Pearl _rumbled with enthusiasm. If the Chinese man was discontented by the lack of warmth in their reception aboard the _Pearl_, he hid it well, but Dafydd was less covert: he stood rooted, looking tentatively from Jack to Barbossa.

"This way, gents."

"Can't even be on time for his own bloody _meeting_," grumbled Jack, walking briskly towards the cabin, taking care to elbow his co-captain out of the way. The unnamed man walked confidently behind Barbossa, and was shortly followed by Ana. Dafydd trotted at the rear of the queue, doubtlessly flummoxed.

When finally the five gathered in the cabin, Barbossa pulled himself up to his full height so that he was but a few inches taller than Jack. Jack reached for his tricorn, and with a twitch of his moustache, placed it lightly atop his head, earning a distasteful look from Barbossa in the process. The charts were unrolled, flipped over and spread over the desk.

"Well, Master Nianzu," said Barbossa, "Here be the characters. Sooner ye solve it, sooner ye get yer gold."

_Nianzu_. Jack had heard that name before, and after rummaging his memory, he realised the man was mentioned during Dafydd's ramblings at the pub.

"Nick, Captain Barbossa," the man said, smiling wryly as he towered the charts. They watched him with bated breath. Even the _Pearl _seemed to cease her creaking, eager for a response. A gentle breeze whispered through an open window, ruffling Jack's sleeves and eliciting a musical clink from his trinkets, as though in an attempt to ease the gauche silence. Nianzu skimmed the text for the third time, and the smug smile began slipping off, until finally, it moulded into a grimace. "These, I cannot read," he stated.

Barbossa looked positively irritated.

"What?" he barked, squinting at the characters himself. Jack was unsure whether to wear a conceited expression at the hole in Barbossa's plan, or an irate one at the fact that they were all back on stage one after all the apprehension and anticipation.

"They're too complex. These characters are traditional Mandarin."

"'Course they are," Jack quipped, opting to fix Barbossa with triumphant smile. Nianzu looked up from the charts to observe Jack for a moment, whether sordidly or curiously, Jack could not tell, and frankly, he did not care; he was content with grinning jubilantly at his rival's fiasco. Ana glowered at him from the corner, but he masterfully eschewed her gaze.

"Where did you obtain these... charts, may I ask?"

"No," retorted Jack quickly, "You may not."

"What a shame. Perhaps I could have directed you to someone near Cape Town who might have been able to help you."

"What be that yer proposin'?" snarled Barbossa.

"An answer to your problems, but I'm hardly willing to give it away for a goose egg."

"Well ye'll certainly have more than one _goose egg_ to exhibit if there be any discrepancy aboard this vessel."

By now, Dafydd looked fairly traumatised. Ana took a small step towards the door in order to hinder any impulsive endeavour of escape. Nianzu observed Barbossa silently.

"I'll want the gold, still."

"Ye can have half now, and the rest when we locate the man."

The man contemplated the offer, meeting Dafydd's eyes once before pronouncing his reply: "Agreed."

Barbossa smiled sardonically, retrieving a bag of coins from his pocket. He counted out a few, and dropped them back into his pocket, and then tossed the remaining, along with the bag, to Nianzu. He caught it easily.

"Early this morning, I took a man and a lady of the evening to Hout Bay," he started. "He was from Singapore, and definitely more learned than I am, or so he seemed from his manner of speaking."

Jack lifted his chin, and a small scowl materialised on his forehead. Ana had stopped seething, and turned cautious eyes on Jack, but he was oblivious, having ears only for the man seated across the room.

"He said he was of the merchandising industry," Nianzu continued, "but I knew better. Their lies were too thick to overlook. The woman could not have been a strumpet, I knew, because when I took her hand to help her into my cart, her calloused palms spoke otherwise. She was a sailor, for the abrasions were quite like my own, from rope and sea weather. Furthermore, the man – Cheng, he called himself – carried not one, but _two _swords; one considerably shorter than the other, _not_ of oriental origin."

"Awfully observant, aren't you?" Jack interrupted quietly.

"Just cautious," came the reply. "They did not ask to be dropped off at the dock, but chose to stop a short way away. I offered to take them further, but they refused.

"I went a little way further towards the few cottages, then followed them on foot, but they were clever; they took the path through the forest, a longer path, but one which would leave less of a trail. I headed for the docks instead. There was only one ship afloat there, huge, with four masts."

Jack kept his expressions neutral, but from the corner of his eye, saw his withheld anxiety mirrored openly on Ana's face. She brought a clenched fist to her mouth, and dug her teeth deep into her whitened knuckles. Nianzu stared pointedly out of the window, unobservant of them all.

"There was a lot of movement on deck, and I did not dare progress; not onto a ship I had seen before, and that too in a terrible state..."

_Elizabeth_.

For a hopeless moment, Jack thought it would be the _Empress_, perhaps even hoped it would be the _Empress_, but there was only one ship in his knowledge that would likely have four masts in this day and age. He brought a palm to his forehead. Nianzu, too, seemed disturbed, and he was silent for a few moments. Had they caught the whiff of a frown that appeared fleetingly on Barbossa's face, they would have known that he was listening with renewed interest.

"Describe her." Ana's feeble voice interrupted the silence. It was then that the whole room turned to her, and Nianzu's eyebrows rose, if just a little, as he acknowledged the apprehensive girl.

"Four masted, large, dark-wooded. A new model of an old galleon, you could say," he replied, examining Ana's expressions closely.

Jack thought he would be liable of choking. His throat had constricted so that when he spoke, his voice escaped as a hoarse whisper, inaudible to everyone, and in synchronisation with Nianzu's answer: "The _Vendaval."_

Whatever colour remained in Ana's face drained completely, and she looked almost as though she were collapsing. Dafydd was behind her in a second, seating her down on a chair that Barbossa had promptly kicked in her direction. It gave Jack a moment to regain composure.

"I see you are familiar with the ship," stated Nianzu.

"Yes."

"We – We saw it sailing away from the inflamed oriental ship a fortnight ago," Dafydd elaborated.

Ana met Jack's gaze fearfully, and he held it steadily, solemnly.

"Carry on, Master Nianzu," said Barbossa, crossing his arms, and leaning against the bookshelf.

"Well, I returned to my cart, of course, and made my way to the village's small market. I knew better than to meddle too deep into affairs that weren't my own. It was when I was taking out the baskets of fish that I realised the pair had stolen one of my possessions: a chest."

"The chest?" cried Dafydd, jumping from Ana's side, frowning. "Why, that would be a waste. We could hardly open it ourselves. Asked several blacksmiths, but nope, not a clue. No one's ever seen anythin' like it. It seemed to have some kind of living thing inside it... _sounded _like it anyway."

"Sounded?" Jack was pretty sure he would need a chair to sit down in, sooner or later. He swaggered casually over to the desk, and sat himself on the edge, in case he misplaced his equilibrium. A chest that didn't open, a 'living' sound that emanated from it, a living thing? No, a living _heart_.

"Oh, aye," replied Dafydd, "couldn't hear it lest you had your ear to it."

The room was stuffy now, almost as warm as the hot day Jack recalled. For an instant, he relived it: the blistering heat, the Caribbean wind, the tender brush of her golden locks against his cheek as they crouched on the sandy beach, ears upon an unopened chest, listening to the thumping emerging from within. _It's real_, he heard her say. And then he was back, back to the present, back on his _Pearl_. He grimaced, catching Barbossa's eye for a moment.

"How did ye gents come by this chest, then?"

"It's a funny thing, really. We were fishing, as usual, and this thing gets caught in our net. It was bloody light in the water, but the minute we took it out, t'was like a blooming anchor! Strange, we thought, so we took in back in the hope to find something of valuable nature inside."

"It'd be a fair guess t'say it came t'ye 'round the time ye saw the _Vendaval_, aye?"

"Why, yes. Now that I think of it..." Dafydd replied, scratching his forehead in thought.

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes.

_So now Gomez wants the chest. Only one reason for that._

He obviously was not aware of Jack and Anamaria's presence in Cape Town as yet, or else, they would have been chased long back. Or perhaps, they _were _being chased. Why else would the _Vendaval _be so far from her home and the Caribbean? Jack contemplated the situation. The translator was aboard the _Vendaval_, but so was Gomez... and perhaps, Elizabeth. If she was alive, it would be despicable to abandon her in her need. After all, emancipating her would also provide them with bearings to the Fountain, he told himself, brushing aside the thought that whispered the true reasons for his uncharacteristic graciousness. It unnerved him, for he could not distinguish if it were a selfless impulse or a selfish one.

"This... lady," Jack mused aloud, "describe her features."

"Can't rightly say. She covered the majority of her face by a scarf. Braided hair, and she kept it out of her face, more like a seafarer than a trollop, if you ask me. Apparently, she was summoned by the captain. Called herself Amelia."

Jack hitched an eyebrow.

He visualised the possible scenarios. The _Empress _aflame: a dead Elizabeth, or a captured one. If he presumed she was dead, then there would one less worry aboard the _Vendaval_. But if she was _captured_, she would be in the brig, along with the rest of her crew. That would explain the Singaporean in Cape Town. But if the Singaporeans were in the brig, then why was there one astray last evening? Perhaps he opted to join Gomez's crew – that sounded about right.

Jack betrayed a small nod before moving on to the next piece of information: the woman. If Elizabeth, an enemy captain – _and a fine one at that_, he thought distractedly – was aboard the vessel, why then had Gomez called for company that evening? Either Elizabeth had pitched a fit (likely) or she was dead. Or... she _was _the 'lady of the evening'. But it hardly made sense for Gomez to set Elizabeth free, and it made even less sense for her to _return _to the _Vendaval_.

_You're going in circles, mate_.

No, there were too many ifs and buts in his propositions. He would need to find the _Vendaval_ to answer his questions, and though he told himself that the questions regarded the charts only, his instinct told him otherwise. No, he would seek the _Vendaval_, but only for himself. He chanted it over and over, offering bribes of youth and immortality, and yet he knew his efforts were futile; a gut feeling told him there was someone aboard the _Vendaval _he was afraid to meet, and he realised with a sense of unrest, that it was not Gomez.

Withdrawing a pouch from pocket, he tossed the rest of Nianzu's agreed amount to him.

"We sail at dusk."

* * *

**A/N**: Though Nianzu describes the _Vendaval _as 'a new model of an old galleon', it is rather the other way round: the bonaventure mizzen was a feature of older galleons. The _Vendaval_'s an exception, modified to make her swifter. Though not swifter than our beloved _Pearl,_ of course. :)


	26. The Python: Give and Take

**Disclaimer**: Any recognisable characters are owned by Disney.

* * *

**The Python: Give and Take**

'_And if I follow I would surely find,  
The horse is gone, the fire's still warm,  
You've moved on an hour before,  
You like to keep me just one step behind.'_

_- _Dan Wilson, Breathless

* * *

_The python never goes in search of food, just accepts whatever comes in his path. Don't be shameful to shed your skin, for the world is all about give and take. Learn instead to change and adapt. Like the python. _

Elizabeth admired the smooth wood of the new lateen rigged Bonaventure mast with her fingertips. A mild breeze agitated the secured white sails as though urging them to break free of their confinements to taste the weather, to acknowledge the power... the _freedom_, as Jack would say, she thought.

"Outdone themselves, haven't they?" commented Jin Hai, smiling as he drew up to stand beside her.

"They rather have!" she exclaimed, and in her surprise incited another coughing fit. Her voice had worsened since morning, emerging as an astonishing unladylike croak. Once the bout receded, she offered a warm smile, and sighed inwardly as Jin Hai returned the sentiment promptly. For many days now, Elizabeth had excogitated the remains of whatever bonds and relationships she had left, and it was far from difficult to deduce that her only friends were those within the boundaries of her ship. After all, it was her crew that remained the night after Will's abandonment. _Not the Pearl._

"Listen," she said, waving a palm at the sails she had been extolling. But Jin Hai already knew; his grin widened as he made an about-face to glimpse the main topgallant.

"We've tied her up long enough."

"We have," Elizabeth replied almost apologetically, "You can feel the wind in your sails tonight," she promised the ship, and as though in response, the _Vendaval_ stilled her struggle momentarily.

Fools, they would seem like to spectators; speaking to a _ship_. Except perhaps _Jack_, she thought distractedly, beaming at the twilit horizon, almost imagining a speck of black there.

* * *

"They're here alright," mumbled Jack, peeping through his spyglass at the ship waiting serenely at the docks. "And by the looks, almost unwatched."

In fact, there appeared to be just two dots on the quarterdeck. Of course, Gomez would hardly expect an attack here, sheltered away in the curve of Table Mountain, but Jack could not risk leading the _Pearl _any closer. Taking the instrument away from his eye, he turned to Barbossa and Gibbs.

"Right, sirs," he said, "Reverse course, and drop anchor _out of sight_. Lower longboats."

"Er, cap'n? T'is not exactly _close_. Ye'll be lookin' at 'bout an hour's rowin'."

"I know," snapped Jack indignantly. He cast a quick look at the ship floating in the distance, and in one practised motion, retrieved the compass and flipped it open. "Snap to."

When the longboats were lowered, Pintel and Ragetti were the first to scurry down, unsurprisingly handpicked to do the honours of rowing. Barbossa and Jack followed, but before they could settle down, Anamaria climbed down to seat herself hurriedly between the two captains.

"Someone's gotta make sure you don't kill each other."

A look passed between Pintel and Ragetti, and they breathed a sigh of relief, expressing their gratitude with brief nods and thankful smiles. Though Jack smiled nonchalantly, he knew better than to accept Ana's excuse. They all sought the _Vendaval _with disparate purposes, even if they denied it. Ana's 'uncle' Lewis was last seen aboard the ship, taken captive by Captain Alexander Gomez for refusing to share information regarding Ana and Jack's whereabouts after the death of the youngest Gomez brother and then first mate, Jacob Gomez. To Ana, the bearings to the Fountain were probably somewhat trivial.

They rowed slowly but steadily towards the shore, taking care to remain as inconspicuous as possible, using the odd complexion of the evening waves to their benefit. The _Pearl _looked beautiful, and all the while, Jack kept his eyes on her, until suddenly, she disappeared around a jagged bend, as though cowering from the ship that was now be behind them. Jack spared the _Vendaval_ just one look before turning his back to her to contemplate his options. Then dropping his coat and hat into the longboat, he smirked at his co-captain confidently, offhandedly.

The tide was favourable today which meant less work for the uncle and nephew. When land was beneath them and the two oarsmen had been ordered to mind the boat and tide, the triplet stepped out onto the beach, a few hundred yards away from the _Vendaval_. She stood proudly in the near darkness, menacing enough to send a chill down spines of all evil onlookers. On her deck, there was but one lantern aglow.

"To the market, then?" Barbossa stated more than asked, but when no retort came, he looked over his shoulder to find himself in the company of just one comrade.

* * *

The _Vendaval _was quiet. Elizabeth leant over the forecastle rail, looking out to the little village in the distance where the majority of the crew had disappeared to relish their last few hours in Hout Bay. The remaining crew members were below deck, inspecting the ship's inventory before their scheduled departure.

"So I guess there's no need to find him now," said Jin Hai, breaking the silence abruptly. Elizabeth blinked, turning to observe his expressions in the weak light. They betrayed nothing. In fact, it seemed as though he was surveying _her_.

"We still know nothing of Ky Ling."

"I was referring to Captain Turner."

There was a silence. She couldn't hold his gaze, and its intensity bore into her even when she resumed her surveillance of the nearby village.

"No, I think we should be alright," she replied, "He'll understand, I'm sure." Jin Hai's lack of response drove her eyes to return to his, and she realised with a start that his transfixed stare had not faltered.

"He will, won't he?" she asked, a little less certainly. When he offered no sign of reassurance, she mustered her courage to answer her own question: "He _is _my husband after all."

"Is he?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"His heart is locked up in a _chest_. If I were to gore your heart out right now, you would be... well... dead."

"He's not _dead_."

"Just without a heart."

"Yes."

She swallowed forcefully, wishing her voice was a little more than the coarse, wavering sound that was escaping her lips. Ten years. The two words were longer than they had last seemed, and they stretched out in front of her, exploiting every minute, every second that passed. Had she really thought she could live on a memory for ten years? She could barely recall memories from a year ago; they moulded into a horrid blur, undistinguishable. Ten seconds had barely passed, let alone ten years.

"I'd still be his wife even if he were in the other world."

"Incorrect. You'd be his widow."

"I'd be _his_."

"Yes."

He was quiet. The gentle swish of waves below them let slip the mocking laughter he seemed to withhold, lingering between them, unspoken but existent. She wondered if everyone thought of her in the same way: friendless and forlorn.

"Could you ever be someone... _else's_?"

Elizabeth flinched, she knew, but she could not decide what struck her more: the direct question or his sudden forwardness.

"Entirely inappropriate question," she asserted, "my morality will barely tolerate."

"The question or the answer?" he muttered in response. "Life at sea is barely appropriate for any woman. You had everything, Elizabeth: wealth, beauty, honour; and now, where are you? How do you do it... live on a figment of a memory for nigh on ten years, waiting for someone you can only hope to see? A lot can change in the space of decade."

"Don't," she warned, swallowing, taking an involuntary step away from him.

He was silent, an order well executed, but it was worse than speaking, and she could bear it no longer.

"It's not a fate we _chose_!"

"Then who did?"

"Jack!"

The name sounded strange on her lips, almost unearthly. She had never quite thought of it in the same way.

"Are you discontented with his decision?"

"No," she said, shaking her head disbelievingly, "No, I'm _grateful_."

"Don't curse yourself too much, Elizabeth," said Jin Hai quietly. "You have a new responsibility now: as captain. This world is all about give and take."

She had not cried in many days, and the tears that were building felt unnatural. She gritted her teeth, summoning defiance which refused to surface.

"But before all, I was his wife."

"Then will your husband be content with your loneliness?"

"I am not the only one who is lonely."

"He has his father. Who do you have?"

She was speechless, breathless. The blunt question dug deeper than any weapon. Turning, she fled down the stairs, and crossed the deck to her cabin without sparing him another look.

* * *

Elizabeth shut the cabin door firmly, turning the key in its place to hear the dull click of the lock. In the gloom of the evening, the cabin was unchanged. The windows were closed, the curtains drawn, and the balcony doors opened to allow faint rays of moonlight to fall onto the nearby furniture.

Striding the well memorised route to her bedside table, she reached out for a tankard of water to ease the charring in her throat. From its weight, she guessed it was half full, a seemingly odd proposition, considering the fact that she remembered filling it to the brim earlier that day, straight after positioning Will's chest on the same table. Absentmindedly, her hand made to trace the patterns on the chest, but when her palm met the wooden surface of the table, she scowled. Then she heard it: the softest tread of boots on wood.

It was only momentary, but it made her heart lurch. The tankard met the table as her hand diverted to the maroon scarf Jin Hai had handed her that morning. If she was really as pale as he defined, then her disclosure would be too easy. Covering her face, she placed an anticipating hand on the pommel of her sword, and turned cautiously, afraid to disturb the ominous tranquillity. There, she waited, but when no answer came, she couldn't help but wonder if the sound was just another figment of her imagination.

_Paranoia._

"Excellent," she sighed inaudibly, trying to relax.

Another caress of wind blew through the balcony doors. Elizabeth tensed again, registering distractedly that she had secured the curtains only an hour ago. On another occasion, the matter would have been inconspicuous, but her madly drumming heart would not calm without confirming their seclusion. She walked guardedly to the unlit lantern on her table, poised to strike the match and extinguish her mistrust.

It was then that the voice spoke, deep and clear.

"_Más bien prefiero la oscuridad, senõr. Mejor dejemoslo así." _

"Who?" Whirling on the spot, she attempted to decipher the source of the sound, but the darkness was illusive. In one neat movement, she let the lantern drop to the floor, and needless to say, there was movement by the bookshelf. Something about the drawl rang a bell, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Jack?" she managed, then bit her tongue. A _fool_ she was. Jack was not one to forgive and forget. What made her think she would be rescued the one she had condemned to a fate worse than death? Jack was like the morning star that would fade by sunrise, the same way he had faded into the horizon when William left.

"_Me ha reconocido antes de lo que esperaba, Capitán_,_" _the voice continued.

Without caring, she reached the door and turned the handle. It resisted. The keys were gone.

"_Están aquí, Capitán Gomez."_ A jingling noise followed. He had caged them both. The sensible thing to do was to raise an alarm, but Elizabeth's pride refused retreat. She turned to face the figure levelly.

"The chest," she said, trying to keep the coarseness from her voice. "Hand it over."

There was a chuckle, followed by a trail of Spanish words which were nothing but gibberish to her ears.

It appeared that one of Gomez's acquaintances had somehow managed to reach the ship in the cover of the night, or that perhaps one of those who had sworn their loyalty had taken the opportunity to double-cross_._ In any case, she would not be able to communicate with him in Spanish. There was only one language left that he would understand.

"You know the penalty of disobeying orders on this vessel," she said smoothly. Her sword rang a clear note as it left its scabbard. From across the room, another note mimicked as a second weapon was drawn. The metals glinted in the darkness, and their positions were betrayed. From his outline, she knew he was taller, if only slightly. Hair tied back, possibly. The shadows left all other details obscure, but it would have hardly mattered, for without hesitation, something fell to the floor, and the figure moved, stepping swiftly onto the bed, and off, to meet her blade, inches from her body.

The suddenness of the motion made her head spin, but an instinct aimed a rough kick at her opponent's booted ankle, eliciting a hiss. Her blade was already swiping above shoulder level, but not fast enough; he stopped it, responding with rancorous strokes. He was not as good as Jin Hai, but his strokes were deft, calculated. In one acute movement, she was pushed against the wall, trapped. Her hat tumbled off, revealing the fair, braided hair underneath. Thankfully, the scarf still shielded her identity, her gender.

Somehow, at that juncture, her adversary appeared strikingly familiar, but the heat of the moment ignored all judgement, coaxing her to dodge the oncoming lethal blow. She turned instantly, feeling a sharpness at her nape, realising with a sinking feeling that her thick braid was now lying lifelessly on the cabin floor, snake-like. She shook her head, trying to adjust to the new weightlessness. It would be foolish to be bothered by it in a situation like this, but she was, and for too long. The sword was biting again, gnawing at her shoulder. Shock and surprise urged a hand to sooth the point of assault, but that was possibly the biggest mistake, for abruptly, she was weaponless. The treacherous clank of her sword forced her eyes shut, and she braced herself for the next blow, knowing it would be fatal. Mockery emerged from the darkness, and she realised suddenly that it came from afar. Her eyes opened to the figure hoisting up the chest, heading for the balcony.

_Not again, not ever._

She followed his footsteps over the bed, reaching him with stunning speed, in the process drawing the dagger from her baldric. The chest met the ground again as she pinched his left arm, folding it behind him so that his back was to her torso, the dagger pressing against his jugular. His scent was familiar, the texture of his skin, his hair. But there was no time to register it, for immediately, he grasped the dagger-wielding hand, and twisted her around so that her own blade threatened her neck, and her free arm was curled behind her. When she thought the last flicker of hope had died, it reignited; her fingers brushed the pistol tucked in the man's belt. Slamming an elbow against his cheek, she turned, and even as he cried out at the unexpected attack, the dagger dug deep until with a ferocious pierce, it cut through her skin, the maroon scarf falling away to the floor, lost. Blood was gushing through the cut, singeing like rum on an open wound, and now, Elizabeth was screaming. He could see her, she knew, for the moonlight sifting through the balcony illuminated her features. She would not have much longer before the darkness came, and so without further delay, she grasped the pistol, cocked it, but as she pulled the trigger, her arm was diverted, the resultant shot tearing through the _Vendaval_'s ceiling.

"Elizabeth."

Whether by accident or with purpose, she did not know, but in that moment, his hand reached her neck to press brusquely at a point, and then she knew no more.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks **cielovainilla** for helping me with those Spanish dialogues, and **Nytd**, for the wonderful beta work.

Thank you to everyone who has given this story a shot. :D Sorry about the delay. I will say but one word to defend myself: university. And perhaps the annoying little plot bunny that's bugging me to start penning Radha's story. I've written a 100-word drabble (latest addition to the Diamonds and Drabbles story), if you're interested. :)


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